


Born For You

by Renai_chan



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Blasphemous Elements, Dom/sub Undertones, Internalized Homophobia, Light Bondage, Lucifer!Harry, M/M, No Seriously Don't Read This if You're a Devout Catholic, Not Beta Read, Not Britpicked, Priest!Eggsy, Pseudo-Exhibitionism, Pseudo-Public Sex, Reinterpretation of Religious Concepts to Fit Plot, Religious Inaccuracies, Religious Themes, Rimming, Roman Catholicism, Sacrilegious Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:19:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4896157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renai_chan/pseuds/Renai_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy is a newly ordained priest who just moved to the small town of Deepcut, Surrey as the local priest, and Harry is the devil that has fallen in love with him.</p><p>(please read tags and notes at the start of the fic)</p><p>Sequel here: <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5050912">Forever Yours</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Born For You

**Author's Note:**

> **********************************************PLEASE READ FIRST!**********************************************
> 
> Okay, this was vaguely inspired by the church scene, mostly because Harry was fucking _hot_ in it and I thought, 'how fucking awful would it be for him and Eggsy to have sex there?' Somewhere along the line, this became a priest!Eggsy/Lucifer!Harry story.
> 
>  
> 
> **NOW, because of the nature of their characters, a lot of the story deals with religious concepts and the reinterpretation of such. I will say this now, I AM NOT BASHING THE CATHOLIC FAITH. In fact, I intentionally tried to make my story very respectful towards it. HOWEVER, because of the homosexual nature of their relationship, some toes may get stepped on. Sacrilege and blasphemy will be present from time to time especially because a church sex scene does occur. If this bothers you, please stop reading now.**
> 
>  
> 
> Flames blasting me for my disrespect of religion will be deleted. I have gone through great lengths to tag and warn everyone. I expect us to be all mature adults about it considering we are on a very liberal website.
> 
> (To be honest, this much warning should probably be a sign that I shouldn't have written this at all, but I sincerely do not regret it. I thrive in writing the taboo as an outlet for my perfectly normal real life. So yeah. In fanfiction, nothing is off limits.)
> 
> Also, I am not from England, so I may have some issues with accuracy of certain details. Forgive me for them and please overlook them (or, alternatively, you can let me know and I'll change them).
> 
> I'll be in hell if anyone needs me.

Stood before the small crowd of the Garrison Church of St. Barbara in Deepcut, Surrey, it was easy to scope each of the members present, few as they were only because Deepcut was a small town.They were all clad in their Sunday best, florals and stripes and pastels abound, all of them bearing the plain features and enthusiastic devoutness common among small-town folk. Children were well-behaved in the church, teenagers agreeable, and adults zealous. 

It was heartwarming as it was easy--an ideal congregation for newly ordained priests like Eggsy. 

He’d been lucky when the previous parish priest--a very old man who had been fond of Eggsy during his training--had requested to take him on as a second to help run the parish in his old age. The priest had passed a few days ago, before his request had come to fruition, but for it, the community’s bishop had assigned Eggsy to take his place. The only downside to it all was how far he was now placed from his mother and sister Daisy.

The congregation had greeted him with a due solemnity from the loss of their beloved priest, but the warmth of a close-knit, religious community. Deborah Ward, the head of the women’s church group, brought him a cake when he first moved in. Sean Wright and Lewis Hall, both young boys from down the road, volunteered to help him move in his things when they caught sight of his transport arriving. Jane Brown and her children’s singing group even greeted him with a small performance. 

With such a wonderful welcome, Eggsy had made it his mission to honor the priest who had paved the way for a beautiful community and willed it to him. On his first sermon, he did just that.

That was when he first saw _him_ in his charcoal gray suit--tailored to utter perfection--and deep red tie. Seated between the Darby and Browning families, he stood out of the crowd by a head and a half, looking all for the world like a modern-day prince among the commoners. He was catching to the eye, admittedly attractive, even if Eggsy hadn’t been harboring the sinful feelings of attraction towards persons of his same sex that the seminary hadn’t been able to reform in him. And suddenly, attending to the congregation no longer seemed all too easy.

Swallowing his discomfort, he asked his altar boys about him after the mass.

“That’s Mr. Hart,” Brandon said. “He’s the resident tailor around here. Been here for forever, hasn’t he?” Sean nodded in agreement.

But that couldn’t be right, Eggsy thought, because he bore around him the aura of a gentleman born of and raised by an affluent and ancient family in Windsor, not in a small town like Deepcut. He glanced back into the church pews from the sacristy, but of course found no one there any longer as the mass had ended a good half hour ago. But he could still envision Hart sitting there, watching him with that same earnest expression he’d held from beginning to end.

“Tailor, you say?” he asked, feigning shallow interest.

“Uh-huh,” Sean answered. “He does everyone here’s suits and even some over at Frimley. Wedding’s and funerals and what have you. He makes the best suits in Surrey--says he trained up in London with a tailor shop on Savile Row. Fancy, eh?”

Eggsy blinked at that. He was from London, after all. He knew quite a bit about it, and like anyone who travelled out of their hometown, hearing about it sped up the beat of his heart. “That tailor shop. It wouldn’t have been ‘Kingsman’ by any chance, would it?”

The boys exchanged a glance, but both shrugged. “Sumthin’ like that,” Brandon said. “Hunstman or Kingsman...”

“Huh,” Eggsy remarked, but let the topic drop. The boys were right, though. Kingsman was very fancy.

…………….

He didn’t go out of his way to meet Hart, even if the temptation of connecting with someone he had something in common with was thrumming in his veins. It had only been a few days since he moved in, after all; reminiscence should be reserved for a bit longer down the road. And besides, latching onto the familiar could alienate him from the rest of the community; he should give himself the chance to integrate first before he indulged in his past.

However, on his fifth day there, it was Hart who made the first move by approaching him in the sacristy, led there by one of the altar boys after the service. Like the first day and every day thereafter, he was dressed to the nines in a tailored suit so excellently made that he looked not as though he was attending a simple mass, but a business meeting at a Fortune 500 company.

“Good afternoon, Father Gary,” he greeted in a silken voice and refined accent that brought out those shameful feelings in Eggsy that he had managed to deny well enough to complete his training, but not eliminate completely. Eggsy berated himself for the thought and sent up a quick prayer of apology to the Lord before offering Hart a warm smile and an outstretched hand.

“Good afternoon to you too, Mr. Hart,” he offered politely.

Hart stepped forward to take his hand and, to Eggsy’s confusion, flipped it downward. Then he bent over to press his lips to the signet ring on the priest’s finger. 

The sight of him bent at the waist and the graze of his lips on his skin was startling enough that Eggsy froze in place. When Hart straightened, eyes alight, the words on the tip of Eggsy’s tongue to explain that the ring had no religious significance and one should kiss only that of a bishop’s or cardinal’s (or the pope’s even, if one was so lucky) disappeared from his mind completely.

“I very much enjoyed sermon today, Father Gary,” Hart said smoothly as though he hadn’t just shorted out Eggsy’s brain. The sincerity in it speared through Eggsy’s haze and warmed him from the inside, out, snapping him out of his stupor. “We must, indeed, be paragons of virtue for our fellow man, beacons of light to guide them away from the darkness of temptation and the whispers of the devil, he who plagues our waking days with sin and evil.” Then in a faraway voice, Hart recited, “ _Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven_.”

“Matthew 5:16. A beautiful verse, Mr. Hart. I’m glad you know your scripture,” Eggsy said with all due sincerity and gratitude for his kind words.

“‘Harry,’ please,” Hart implored with a smile that wrinkled the corner of his eyes.

Eggsy stumbled over his tongue before he found the words to say, “Yes, of course. Harry.”

“And you’ll have to thank Father Froggatt for my knowledge of the scripture; if he had done the right thing and left me to my own devices, then he’d have probably lived a longer life filled with less stresses from our very... _lively_ discussions,” Harry said a little mischievously. 

Eggsy chuckled. “I’m sure he found it a worthy incentive to meet our Lord earlier.”

Harry mirrored his chuckle for a beat, and then, a little more wistfully, said, “He was a dear old friend and I do miss him so.” Eggsy joined him in his solemnity. “In fact, the reason I approached you today is that, I am wondering if you had the time to spare to indulge an old man an audience to his stories. I’m sure it would help you to know more about Father Froggatt’s time as our priest, and I would appreciate someone to talk with. Admittedly, I have not made many friends among the townsfolk here.”

That snapped Eggsy to attention, banishing the confusion in his mind. He frowned in concern. “I’m sure they don’t intend to sunder you from--”

Harry cut him off with a short chuckle. “Oh no, no, Father. You misunderstand. The neighbors are perfectly accommodating and very, very lovely. It is I who have a tendency to isolate myself, unfortunately. I find that I am able to connect with few in the community as my interests and, well, personality somewhat differ from theirs.”

“Ah!” Eggsy answered, relieved that there was no strife amongst the members of his church. This part--listening to people’s troubles, consoling, and offering advice--this part he could do fairly well. “Well, then in that case, who am I to deny an old man a simple request?” he said with a teasing wink that made Harry’s lips quirk.

He led them out of the sacristy and through the church toward his attached office and quarters. The housekeeper had gone for the day, and the caretaker and his wife would be starting their chores inside the church proper. As they walked, Eggsy engaged Harry in conversation with a “Father Froggett was an excellent mentor to me back when I was still at Redemptoris--my seminary. He’d visit us once a month and spend the day with me, teaching me what it meant to be a priest and the roles we played in people’s lives. He was the one who secured my place here at St. Barbara’s, did you know?”

Harry’s eyes lit up with delight. “I did not,” he answered. “In such case I believe we should pray in thanks for the Lord’s foresight on giving us such a promising replacement.” Eggsy suppressed a blush at the praise.

“You’re too kind. But I’ve only been here a few days; I might not live up to your expectations if you set them too high,” he said as they arrived at his office and settled inside. He gestured Harry to the chair opposite his desk.

The older man tilted his head in consideration. “I have the full confidence that you will not only meet each of my expectations, but surpass them brilliantly as well.”

This time, Eggsy’s blush couldn’t be helped in the face of Harry’s earnest voice. To hide it, he turned his face away, instead, and asked, “Would you care for some tea?.”

“Tea would be lovely, thank you,” Harry told him, delight swimming in his voice.

“So how did you and Father Froggatt come to be friends?” Eggsy asked politely while he set about fixing up two cups of tea. He only had a basic set up on hand and frowned when he considered that Harry might be used to drinking posher stuff. But then again, Eggsy may be overthinking this because Harry had been friends with Father Froggatt for a long time, he said, and may be used to drinking a priest’s modest selection. 

Resolved, he turned back to Harry and set a cup and saucer down in front of him.

“Thank you, my dear,” the man said, reaching for the sugar bowl Eggsy had set out to drop one cube of sugar in his cup, thankfully not noticing when Eggsy flushed in shame at the shiver of pleasure the endearment sent through him. He turned his back once more to Harry on the pretense of reorganizing his tea tray. Harry probably used such words carelessly all the time; there was no reason for Eggsy to feel anything from it.

‘Disgusting,’ Eggsy mentally berated himself. ‘You are a priest, Eggsy Unwin; a man of _God_. How can you lead your flock if you cannot ignore the temptations of the devil?’ To that, he sucked in a deep breath and let said thoughts drift from his mind before he turned back to find Harry looking at him with concern.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

Eggsy nodded. Maybe a bit too eagerly. “Fine, I’m fine,” he answered then dropped three cubes of sugar into his cup and gestured for Harry to start, only to find the man staring at his teacup in horror. “What?” he asked, looking down. Maybe a fly had flown into it?

“How do you not have diabetes yet?” were the horrified words that stumbled out of Harry’s mouth. Then he seemed to realize what he said, then flushed. “Oh. I meant--” But then he didn’t follow it up with an explanation, only looking down and sipping at his own tea defensively.

Eggsy laughed. Loudly. “Oi!” he retorted, jest bright in his mockingly sharp tone. “T’ each ‘is own, yeah?” He was still laughing when Harry looked up at him curiously, and only then did Eggsy realize that his carefully cultured speech had slipped. Not that he was ashamed of his accent, but only that he’d grown used to speaking properly when he took up the cloth. “Oh. I, uh… grew up in the estates in South Hampstead,” he offered as an explanation.

Harry hummed in interest. “Not many boys from the estates would choose to take up the cloth,” he observed.

“Yeah, it’s just...” Eggsy trailed off. His reasons for joining the church weren’t a conversation to be had on one’s first meeting, no matter how sincere the other party seemed to be. He didn’t doubt he’d be able to tell them to Harry one day, but that day wasn’t today. “I wanted to be closer to God,” he decided to say with a bright smile that he hoped would discourage further questions.

Harry, thankfully, did drop it. He nodded in solemn agreement through a sip at his tea, and then pointed at the chasuble hanging in a glass case behind the desk. “I made that for Father Froggatt,” he said, not a hint of pride in his words, but only factual nonchalance. “As I did most his other clothes--he would have been my most prolific client had I accepted any of his payments. As it was, I gifted them all to him--but this one, he adored.” And Eggsy could see why.

The chasuble was made of a rich, red brocade--heavy and stifling to be certain, but gorgeous nonetheless. Harry would have paid a pretty penny for it--but it was the golden embroidery running thick around the neck and down the front that caught the eye and held it there. At first glance, it was merely an elegant twist of vines and scrollwork complementing the pattern of the red brocade, but Eggsy, having inspected it closely the day he had seen it, had found depictions of the life of Christ swirling amongst the vines. The greatest story ever told, summarized in beautiful, succinct images.

It was a vestment Eggsy didn’t doubt bishops and cardinals would have coveted had they known of its existence in this little church in Surrey. He was certain the pope himself would commission his own if he saw it. 

Eggsy had fallen for it himself. As beautiful as it was, he had wanted to wear it that first mass to commemorate Father Froggatt, but he’d been shamefully overtaken by selfishness and decided to keep it until special occasion arose. The Lord would understand.

“It’s marvellous,” Eggsy told him sincerely, as if a single word was enough to describe it.

Harry smiled humbly. “Thank you. I embroidered it myself. It took me a good few weeks to do so, but luckily there weren’t too many weddings and funerals then.”

Eggsy had to remind himself that Harry was a tailor and embroidery must have been part of his training because it was hard to imagine him doing so. “Father Froggatt must have been truly incredible to have received such a thoughtful and wonderful gift.”

“He was, he was,” Harry agreed.

They sipped their tea in silence for a bit until Eggsy broke it with his earlier question. “So how did you and Father Froggatt become good friends?”

Harry chuckled to himself, an inside joke that Eggsy hoped to be soon a part of. “He restored my faith in humanity,” was his answer, as though the words were the simplest, easiest thing to say, not the profound statement of conviction that they actually were. Eggsy said nothing because there was more for Harry to say. 

“I was the eldest of my siblings; I was the achiever, the thinker, the leader. My brothers and sisters looked up to me and sought me for guidance in the absence of our father. My father entrusted to me his work and his things without second thought. We lived a harmonious, beautiful life, free from difficulty and hardship.

“And then my youngest brother was born.” He paused there, drinking his tea and thinking. Eggsy hung on eagerly to his words, standing briefly to collect the teapot from the side table to refill Harry’s cup and keep him seated. Harry’s lips twisted into a frown at his next words. “He was a brat. He was willful and vengeful. He destroyed my father’s things, he said awful things behind his back, he hurt my siblings and himself. 

“Oh, he had his good moments here and there, but as he grew, those moments dwindled. He made our beautiful life darken.

“But father loved him, and my siblings tolerated him because of our father’s love for him. I was the only one who saw him for what he truly was. I made my thoughts known to father, but father wouldn’t listen. ‘He’s young. He’ll grow out of it,’ father would tell me, and when he didn’t, father would make excuses for him, saying his willfulness made our lives interesting and fulfilling. Personally, I think father didn’t want to admit that he was wrong.

“But I couldn’t take it, that father was willing to see his life’s work ruined by his blatant favoritism and leniency, so I left home.”

While it was an interesting and very revealing story--and maybe Eggsy’s decision to withhold his reasons for entering the seminary was unfounded after all--it still didn’t explain how Father Froggatt fit into it. “And the good priest?” he prompted gently. 

Harry glanced down at his cup. “I was very angry for a long while. Admittedly, I may have taken out that anger in all the wrong ways. 

“I happened upon Father Froggatt in my quest to rebel against my father and seek vengeance on my brother. Father Froggatt found the real me, hidden beneath years and years of anger. He made me understand that my responsibility to my siblings--including my youngest brother--did not end when my father’s favor did. He made me understand that it was my duty to reform my youngest brother to restore the harmony of our household.”

He ended the story there with a small, almost shy smile, and wow. Eggsy didn’t quite know how to respond to that.

“My father died when I was five,” he said quickly before he immediately clamped his mouth shut. Did he sound like he was undermining Harry’s story by failing to comment on it? “I mean, I’m sorry about your family.”

Harry chuckled. “That’s quite all right, Father. You needn’t patronize me,” he said. “Please go ahead with what you were saying. If you’re comfortable sharing it, that is.”

Eggsy nodded, still hesitant from his faux pas, however. “My father died when I was five,” he repeated slowly. “I barely remember him anymore, but I knew the life we had then was amazing--” He took a deep breath. “--Especially since after it, my mother met my stepfather and everything only seemed to get worse and worse.

“It started with simple scoldings when Dean felt comfortable enough around us. Leaving my dirty dishes in the sink, not wiping my shoes when I came in from the park. Regular dad stuff, you know? I hated him for it then. I mean, who was he? He wasn’t my father. He had no right to tell me off.

“And then he and mum started going off at each other, quietly at first, as if I didn’t understand that they were fighting. And then they got louder and louder and louder until they weren’t hiding anymore. By then, Dean was comfortable enough to yell at me, too, and… and smack us around some.” Eggsy swallowed the pain of those memories down. He didn’t look at Harry.

“I later learned his income was… well, less than legal--he was our breadwinner, our only source of income. He’d have me run some stuff, shuffle money and drugs between hands. I couldn’t say no, really, and to be honest I didn’t mind then. I was young, and I scored myself some tips and… stuff.” This time, he chanced a look at Harry to find him looking back with a sympathetic, non-judgemental gaze. Eggsy looked away again.

“When he threatened to… to have me sell my--” Eggsy choked on his words waved his hand vaguely instead. “I knew I needed to get away. It was this or the Marines, but what would being a soldier get me? More violence and pain. Dean and his thugs are well too versed in that for me to make any impact there. But Dean and mum and I are all good Catholics; as a priest, he wouldn’t dare touch me. The Lord would protect me from him.”

Harry was still staring at him with that same expression. Eggsy took comfort in it, so in a lighter tone, he joked, “So yeah. That’s my sob story.”

Harry put his teacup down and reached for Eggsy’s hand. With a voice that professed intensity and promise, he said, “You are a remarkable young man, and you do not deserve the life you’ve been handed.” His voice was firm and sincere and it wrapped around Eggsy like a soft blanket. “But I am thankful circumstances have led to you find your way here.”

Eggsy’s heart suddenly thumped in his chest, and his hand heated from Harry’s hold. “Th--Thanks,” he choked out. 

The other man smiled and stood, Eggsy’s hand still in his clutch. “I should take my leave. I’m sure you still have matters to attend to, and I have taken up enough of your time,” he said.

“You don’t have to,” the priest said quickly because he found he’d gladly spend hours more with the man. “It’s no trouble at all.” Harry smiled.

“I’m glad to hear it. In that case, would you be amenable for lunch tomorrow at the cake shop?” he asked. Eggsy’s hand was still comfortably secured in his grip, and Eggsy was well aware of it.

‘It’s just lunch,’ Eggsy told himself as he answered, “Yes, of course. That sounds excellent.”

“Shall I pick you up?” Harry asked.

‘It’s just lunch,’ Eggsy repeated. “No. No, it’s fine, I can take the bus.” To the beginnings of Harry’s frown, he insisted with a laugh, “I’ll be _fine_. I know ‘ow ter use the bus.” His real accent seemed to settle Harry.

“All right,” the other man agreed with a genuine, if small, smile. “I’ll see you there at half eleven, then.” Eggsy nodded in agreement. “Until tomorrow, Father.”

‘It’s just lunch,’ Eggsy insisted when, once more, Harry pressed a kiss to the signet ring on Eggsy’s hand, and, once more, Eggsy found himself at a loss for words.

…………...

Tomorrow found him fidgeting in front of the mirror, deciding among three varying clerical shirts to wear to lunch at the cake shop, which was frankly ridiculous because aside from sleeve length and color, there was no difference among the three. Choosing one shouldn’t be this hard.

After a second more of deliberation, he finally growled loudly at his own vanity and grabbed the black short-sleeved one, his usual daily attire during the warmer months. It was just lunch! An offer from one friend to another. He didn’t have to spend ages deciding on what to wear for it like a girl on her first date.

It was to that thought that guilt suddenly punched him in the stomach, and he had to grasp at the wall and breathe deeply for a moment. ‘It’s just lunch,’ he told himself, wondering if he should pray now for forgiveness or pray later.

It wasn’t technically sin unless he acted upon it, he told himself, but he sent up a quick prayer of forgiveness and request for strength, nevertheless, before he made his way to the bus stop.

“Good morning, Father,” greeted Helen Long who stood at the stop when he arrived.

“Good morning, Helen,” he answered. “Lovely day, isn’t it?” As far as small talk went, it really wasn’t the best, but she latched onto it anyway.

“Very unusual, to be sure, but I wouldn’t question it. It’s not very often the boys get to go play on a dry soccer field,” she laughed. Eggsy shared her chuckle. “Where are you off to, Father?”

Her question was polite and proper, and Eggsy reminded himself that he was just off to lunch with a friend. There was no reason for his nerves to freeze up as they did. “Oh, I’m meeting with Harry--Harry Hart, that is--at Kathy Scott’s cake shop,” he answered, nonchalant as he could.

Helen pursed her lips. “Harry Hart? Oh, always thought he was a bit of a loner, that one,” she said in an almost offhand tone. “Some of the men try to invite him to watch footy and have a couple of pints from time to time, but he always turns them down. Does it in such a nice way, though, that the men keep asking anyway.” She chortled. “The girls and I have tried inviting him out to some of our gatherings, mind you. Wouldn’t mind having him there, being easy on the eyes and all.” Then she seemed to realize who she was talking to and coughed. “Sorry, Father.”

Eggsy laughed to save her the embarrassment. “It’s quite all right. No one can condemn you for being able to see, just so long as you look, but not touch,” he said with a wink. Helen laughed.

“Too true, Father. Too true.”

His bus arrived just then, so he issued her a quick blessing on her request and said his goodbyes. He made his way to the middle of the bus, greeting the driver and the few passengers and taking a seat to watch the town pass by.

He reached the cake shop in no time at all. Harry had yet to arrive, but the few faces in it were familiar from his sermons and everyday errands. They waved at him and greeted him with bright smiles and warm words, and Eggsy felt thankfulness once more for Father Froggatt’s recommendation and the Lord’s favor. 

“Has Harry Hart been through here yet, by any chance?” he asked Kathy as she sat him down in a booth by the window.

“I’m afraid not, Father,” she said, but it was fine. Eggsy was a bit early, in any case.

“That’s fine. I’ll just have some tea while I wait, shall I?” he said with a bright smile that reflected off of her face.

“How’s about some pie to go with it while you wait. On the house, of course.”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Eggsy said and looked out the window when Kathy left. A group of children waved at him as they passed by outside with their mother, and he waved back at them, amused at their enthusiasm. When they had turned the corner, Kathy returned with his tea and pie and left him with a polite ‘enjoy,’ so he took to watching through the window once more while sipping at his tea.

When a sleek, classic sports car rolled up to the curb, though, Eggsy’s eyes widened, and when Harry climbed out of the driver’s seat, his jaw dropped. The other man caught his gaze through the window and gave him a bright smile.

“ _That_ is a beaut, bruv,” Eggsy told him, tipping his head to the car, when he sat down. Harry’s grin turned amused, almost like he was on the cusp of laughing, undoubtedly at Eggsy’s accent, but it only strengthened Eggsy’s resolve to use it around him.

“It’s an 1967 Austin-Healy 3000,” Harry told him with a proud smile as he scanned through the menu. Absently, he asked, “Have you selected anything yet?”

“Naw, been waitin' fer you, 'aven't I? Kathy was nice enuff ter give me somethin' ter eat while I waited,” Eggsy gestured to the pie then jerked his chin at the car. “How much do them cars go fer nowadays?”

Harry followed his gaze. “Oh, I don’t know. I’d say about thirty five grand,” was his nonchalant answer. 

Eggsy’s eyes bugged out. “Blimey! ‘Ow’d you afford one of ‘em, then, workin’ down ‘ere? I mean, no offense, but ‘s not like there’s any billionaires ‘ere ter be throwin’ around thousands ‘a pounds fer a suit.”

Harry chuckled, and told him, “That one was a gift from a _very_ appreciative client.” If anything, that only made Eggsy’s eyebrows climb higher into his hair.

“Yer kiddin.’”

“Oh no,” Harry said. He looked entirely too amused at Eggsy’s reaction. “Of course, he wasn’t from here. He was a friend of mine from Oxford, son of an earl. I did his wedding suit--for free of course, being a friend and all, so he gave me this in return.” Eggsy was still blinking in shock when Kathy returned to take their orders. “Just the carbonara, please for me. Father?” Eggsy shook himself out of his shock to ask Kathy for the chicken sandwich and some chips.

“Got it,” Kathy nodded and left to sort their food.

With a last wistful glance at the car, Eggsy ridded himself of his awe to focus on the man before him. “So you went to Oxford?”

“A long time ago I did, yes,” Harry confirmed. His chin rested on his linked fingers, but the amused smile remained. Eggsy was glad for it. “Got in on my own merits and put myself through with scholarships and side jobs, which is much more than I can say for a lot of my schoolmates, but there were exceptions here and there. My friend for one.” He tipped his head to the car to indicate which friend he meant.

“So wot did you take up?”

Harry’s answer was immediate. “English Language and Literature, literature being one of the few truly beautiful things created by man.” He sounded wistful and happy as he said it, but also mildly resentful, as if man had no right to create such beautiful things. 

The contradiction was odd to hear, but Eggsy wasn’t quite sure how to phrase that as a question, so instead he teased, “So you know a lo’ ov poems you can randomly spou’ off ter pretty girls?”

Almost as though he had been expecting it, Harry crooned in a voice that did terrible, terrible things to Eggsy’s insides:

“ _The things about you I appreciate may seem indelicate:_  
I’d like to find you in the shower  
And chase the soap for half an hour.  
I’d like to have you in my power and see your eyes dilate.  
I’d like to have your back to scour  
And other parts to lubricate.  
Sometimes I feel it is my fate  
To chase you screaming up a tower or make you cower  
By asking you to differentiate Nietzsche from Schopenhauer.  
I’d like to successfully guess your weight and win you at a féte.  
I’d like to offer you a flower.”

His eyes positively _glittered_ when he finished, almost as if he was _daring_ Eggsy to say something, but for a moment, Eggsy’s words were lost in the jumble of his head. He was pretty sure his cheeks were flaming. 

Flustered, he grabbed his teacup and downed a few quick mouthfuls.

“And the pretty girls fall for that one?” he managed to squeeze out weakly, trying to tease and failing miserably. He stabbed at his pie in an effort to look casual. “It sounds rather tacky to be talking to them about _lubrication_ when you haven’t had a first date yet.”

Harry was clearly biting back a laugh. “Mr. Fuller has yet to fail me,” he confessed with a knowing wink.

Eggsy sent up several prayers to the Lord in thanks for his sudden intervention when Kathy came back with their food. And then retracted them when she remarked, “You’re looking a little flushed, Father. Are you all right? Shall I go open up a window?”

“No. No, I’m fine. Kathy. Thank you,” he answered, desperately hoping he didn’t sound rude. She still looked skeptical and gave Harry a glance, but eventually, she shrugged and bade them a good lunch.

Harry still look like he wanted to laugh, but Eggsy’s prayers seemed to have paid off when he moved to safer topics for the duration of their lunch.

It almost surprised Eggsy when he checked the time and found it to be nearly three in the afternoon. Although it didn’t cut into any of his duties--his daily mass didn’t start until four--he hadn’t realized he and Harry had been talking for that long.

The other man noticed his surprise, it seemed, because he said, to offer him a chance to leave without being rude, “Once again, I seem to have taken up too much of your time, Father Gary.” He called for the bill before Eggsy could respond, but regretfully, they really did have to cut it short so that Eggsy could prepare for mass. 

He offered him an apologetic smile, and then said, “‘Eggsy.’”

“Come again?” Harry blinked.

“You can call me ‘Eggsy,’” Eggsy repeated and then explained, “It was my nickname growin’ up.”

The smile on Harry’s face was beatific. 

When the bill came, he, of course, paid for it, shutting down Eggsy’s offer to share with a firm, “Certainly not. It was I who invited you here, Eggsy.”

“Fanks,” Eggsy conceded with a delighted smile at the use of his name. Harry went so far as to offer him a ride back to the church, and having seen his car, Eggsy couldn’t for the life of him refuse the offer. Even more so when Harry tossed him the keys. “Yer serious?” he asked.

“Of course I am,” Harry answered. “That is, of course, assuming you know how to drive?”

Eggsy laughed. “Ge’ in, bruv. Lemme show you ‘ow ter get the best out ov this thing.” And then proceeded to race the car down Deepcut Bridge Road.

In front of the church, Harry made a show of staggering out of the car and moaning, “I’m going to have to get the tires changed at this rate.” So Eggsy laughed and shoved him.

“Lighten up, would you? Tha’ was nuffin,” he said. “Coulda done that backwards in my sleep!” Harry chuckled and shook his head. 

“Remind me never to let you behind the steering wheel again.”

Eggsy stuck his tongue out at him then grinned. “So I’ll see you at mass?” he asked, slowly walking backwards away from Harry. 

Harry didn’t give an answer--though Eggsy knew he _was_ going to be there--but the older man caught his hand before he could walk out of reach and used it to reel him back in. 

Eggsy stumbled forward, barely catching himself before he slammed into Harry, and then froze when Harry bent at the waist.

Like before, Harry kissed his signet ring gently, reverently, and when he straightened, he murmured with a soft smile, “Always.”

………...

Eggsy refused to see Harry the next day. When Harry asked, he gave the excuse of having to plan his sermons for the week, which was technically true--Eggsy was a _priest_. Of course he wouldn’t lie--but he didn’t need the entire afternoon for it, to be completely honest about it.

Nevertheless, Harry didn’t push, simply told him, “I understand. Let me know when your schedule frees up,” and then left.

Eggsy felt like a heel, especially when the man had been nothing but kind and accommodating. Sure, he had the odd habit of kissing Eggsy’s signet ring, but it was Eggsy who failed to correct that. Sure, there was the whole poem incident, but it was Eggsy who asked for it. 

Nothing in his actions would imply malice. It was _Eggsy_ who was projecting his revolting feelings.

So after much reflection and the asking of forgiveness, Eggsy called Harry up to meet the next day.

Harry, very obviously delighted at the call, invited Eggsy to his home. He even stayed behind to give Eggsy a lift after the mass and relevant tasks had been completed, insisting on it over Eggsy’s protests by telling him that the bus didn’t run near his house by the outskirts of town. (He promised to let Eggsy drive back, just going to show what a faker he was for all the fuss he kicked up the day before.)

His home was surprisingly modern within the context of Deepcut. The exterior had a somewhat Spanish feel to it with its white cement walls, arched doorways, iron railings and grates, and the blossoming rose bushes that hung over the main door. 

Inside, however, was quintessentially English with its richly colored wallpaper and wood paneling. Pictures and knick knacks hung on the walls. A fully-stocked wet bar graced the dining room. The sofas in the living room were hard and unforgiving, but obviously expensive.

“Antiques,” Harry explained when Eggsy complained about how uncomfortable they were for sleeping on. “And you’re not supposed to sleep on them. That’s what the guest bedroom is for, Eggsy.”

The guest bedroom in question was nicely done up, but austere from disuse. Eggsy guessed that Harry’s bedroom would have a similar decor but be logically much more lived-in. He didn’t, however, have a look out of respect for Harry’s privacy.

“This is my study,” Harry said, leading Eggsy into a red room filled with The Sun front pages pinned up to the walls. Eggsy frowned at them, mostly in confusion.

“Tabloid front pages? And not a very good tabloid either,” he pointed out.

Harry only chuckled. “Important points in my life, Eggsy. I’ve had a lot of them,” he answered vaguely, but it must have been private, otherwise he would have elaborated on them, so Eggsy didn’t pry.

“Fifty years of important points? I’d say,” Eggsy agreed teasingly, making Harry laugh louder.

“Cheeky,” he said and then gestured Eggsy over to the bookshelf. “Come here, Eggsy, I want to show you something.” So Eggsy shuffled over obediently, skimming quickly through the titles on his way over. The complete works of Shakespeare--many of them well read--Oscar Wilde, Agatha Christie, George Orwell. Even J.K. Rowling.

"Harry Potter, Harry? Really?" Eggsy asked with a laugh. "Doesn't that seem a bit too... _young_ for your tastes?"

Harry sent him a wry look for the jab at his age. "The language Ms. Rowling uses is, admittedly, unsophisticated and many of the concepts borrowed from existing lore, but the way she weaves those concepts into a completely different story is remarkable, and the themes she uses are inspiring."

Eggsy only smiled. "Okay," he conceded easily then peered at the book in Harry's hands, pausing in his consideration of it.

It looked old. 

Very, very old, in fact. Maybe centuries old. 

Eggsy didn't want to breath on it, let alone touch it, but curiosity got the better of him and he leaned in to read the somewhat blurry handwriting. "That's..." he started, breath catching as the words on the page Harry held open filtered through his vision.

“ _locutus quoque est Dominus cunctos sermones hos ego sum Dominus Deus tuus qui eduxi te de terra Aegypti de domo servitutis non habebis deos alienos coram me_ ,” he read softly, Latin familiar on his tongue from his years in the seminary.

Harry spoke immediately after him, translating, “ _And the Lord spoke all these words: I am the Lord thy God, who brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage. Thou shalt not have strange gods before me_.”

“Harry...” Eggsy murmured, shocked and solemn at the same time. 

"The Bible, yes. A copy from the twelfth century. I had the good fortune of coming into possession of it a while back," Harry told him. Eggsy reached for it without thinking, then pulled his hand back before it could connect. Mildly amused, Harry said, "Don't be ridiculous, Eggsy. It won't fall apart." Encouraged, Eggsy sucked in a reverent breath and ran his fingers over the length of the page. "There, see? Still in one piece," Harry teased, before handing it over.

Gingerly, like handling a child, Eggsy took it from him and let out a breath that sounded more like a sigh.

"Do you want to sit down?" Harry asked. He still sounded far more amused than the situation warranted, but Eggsy didn't care about that right now because he was holding in his arms a gorgeous piece of history.

"Yes, please," he answered. Harry touched the small of his back and guided him forwards, which was a wise thing to do, all this considered, because Eggsy could barely take his eyes off of the book. He settled Eggsy on the chair behind the desk and shuffled the items off of the table so that Eggsy could set the book down.

The younger man ran his fingers down the Bible's cover, the pads of his fingers catching over the leather ridges, and traced the gold letters declaring its title. The leather was aged, faded, and worn, but Eggsy wanted to press his nose to it. Although, that might have been a little too weird, though, so only with immense fortitude, he held himself back from doing so.

He cracked the cover open and read the first line of Genesis.

“ _in principio creavit Deus caelum et terram terra autem erat inanis et vacua et tenebrae super faciem abyssi et spiritus Dei ferebatur super aquas dixitque Deus fiat lux et facta est lux et vidit Deus lucem quod esset bona et divisit lucem ac tenebras appellavitque lucem diem et tenebras noctem factumque est vespere et mane dies unus_ ”

A shiver ran down his spine at the music of the words.

"How?" he asked. He meant how did such a beautifully preserved relic like this come into Harry's possession, of course, but he seemed to have gone for nonverbal for a bit. This would have gone for _thousands_ at Christie’s--there weren't many left after all, and probably none that looked like this. "You must've spent a _fortune_ on this."

"Quite the opposite, actually," Harry answered, snapping Eggsy's attention to him. He tried not to admire the way Harry was all long lines of elegance in a casual sprawl. He tried very hard. "When I came into possession of it, no one knew of its value."

"You lucky devil," Eggsy swore under his breath, still fondling the pages. He glanced down just in time to miss the tightening of Harry's smile.

"Would you like to have it?" Harry asked after a beat. Eggsy's head whipped up once more, cricking his neck painfully, but he ignored it to gape open-mouthed at the older man.

"Are you--I can't--" he spluttered. "You're insane. Literally _insane_ , d' you know that? No! No, I can't take this; 'ow can you even ask?!"

"I can donate it to the church, if it makes you feel better," Harry shrugged, looking perpetually amused.

" _No_ ," Eggsy said firmly. "The church don't have the facilities to care for this. I won' be the person to ruin it."

"You're making too big a deal of this. I’m sure you’ll take care of it, and I’d gladly set you up with the means to preserve it so that others will be able to enjoy it for generations to come," Harry tried to point out, but given that he was clearly insane, Eggsy elected to ignore him in favor of fawning once more over the Bible.

"It's because you're weird," he muttered under his breath. “ _So_ weird.” But Harry heard him because he laughed suddenly, bright and loud. Eggsy peeked up at him and grinned.

"All right," Harry conceded when he had wiped his tears of mirth away. "I'll keep it here, but only if you promise to visit it whenever you want."

"Guv, you ain't keepin' me away now that I know it's ‘ere," Eggsy answered with all due seriousness and dash of teasing. Harry only looked pleased at the declaration, smiling before burying his nose into the book on his lap, so Eggsy followed suit, finding solace in the comfortable silence that engulfed them.

This time around, Eggsy knew that hours had passed in Harry's unobtrusive company, dinner at the desk coming and going like a passing dream. Looking up at the clock and seeing it nearing midnight didn't startle him; he didn't even feel the grasp of sleep overcoming him. Instead, he felt a bit forlorn at having to leave the book without having taken his fill, knowing that he was imposing by staying even longer. 

Harry's eyes found his and a knowing look entered them. "Would you like to stay the night?" he asked without a trace of hesitance. 

The question took Eggsy off guard. He blinked, looked down at the Bible, and back up at Harry. "I, uh..."

"You can take the guest bedroom, and I can bring you home tomorrow morning," Harry further volunteered, but Eggsy was stuck on his answer. 

What was _wrong_ with him? There was nothing at all malicious in Harry’s statement.

"Yes. I mean, if it's not too much of an imposition," he answered quickly, but not quickly enough for Harry to notice the hesitation.

Harry's smile grew tight around the edges. "You can always bring it home with you tonight. I can come pick it up if that's what you'd prefer."

"No, I. I didn't mean to sound rude, I'm sorry," Eggsy said. "Of course I'd be happy to stay. Thank you for having me."

Harry's smile was still strained, but he nodded anyway. "I have a spare toothbrush you can use. Would you like to borrow some nightclothes? Nothing I have would fit you, unfortunately, but they’ll be more comfortable than what you have on."

"I--" The denial was on the tip of his tongue because he didn't need the visual of Harry's clothes engulfing him, but after Harry's tight smile, he backtracked. "I'd appreciate that greatly, thank you."

Harry nodded sharply and stood. "You can put the book in the room while you wash up," he said, leading the way there. Eggsy followed after him, book clutched tightly against his chest. The easy gait Eggsy had grown accustomed to was gone, instead Harry was all stiff strides and measured motions.

He opened the door for Eggsy and gestured him inside. "Make yourself comfortable while I fetch you your toothbrush," he said and turned to leave with the abruptness of annoyance.

Eggsy sunk onto the bed, watching him walk across the hall. Guilt ate at him for Harry’s sudden coldness--but for what reason, he didn't know.

"Thank you," he said softly when Harry handed him his things. The other man grunted an acknowledgement and turned back to the door.

"You can use my toothpaste in the bathroom," he said softly. "Goodnight, Father."

………...

Harry had taken him home to following morning, subdued, but not unkind. Their conversation over breakfast had been stilted, like they were complete strangers or relatives who didn’t get along, and Eggsy didn’t quite understand why. So he played along with Harry’s mood and let sleeping dogs lie.

They arrived at the church at half past eight when the caretaker was sweeping the grounds and the townsfolk started to bustle about the streets. Harry pulled up to the curb and idled there, unmoving for a long moment while he seemed to collect his thoughts. Eggsy took the hint and stayed right where he was, watching the other man. “I’m sorry I’ve been wretched,” Harry finally told him.

“It’s okay,” Eggsy responded automatically. “You’ve nothing to apologize for. You’ve been only kind to me. Thank you. But--” He stopped himself. He intended to ask what he had done wrong last night because he wanted to fix this. He wanted to bring back the teasing, warm Harry who’d shown him great friendship in the four days since they began speaking with one another. Harry had become a good friend, and Eggsy wanted to keep it that way. But maybe asking him about it wasn’t the best thing to do. He’d reflect on it, instead, and pray, and maybe God would guide him. “Thank you,” he said again and moved to open the door.

“Your accent makes its appearance when you’re happy and relaxed,” Harry said suddenly, stopping him. Eggsy blinked, unaware that it did and surprised at Harry’s observance, but not seeing the connection with last night just yet. Harry gave him an apologetic smile. “When I asked you to stay, you lost your accent and started talking like... well, like me. I made you uncomfortable, so I was mad at myself.” Softly, he said, “I’m sorry that I made you think it was you.”

Oh. That was it.

That was it, wasn’t it? Eggsy’s vile urges ruining his only friendship in town so far. Of course Harry wouldn’t know what had made Eggsy hesitate, and while it was true that it was because of his offer, mostly it was because Eggsy seemed to expect more out of it.

“Is that it, bruv?” he asked with a bright smile and careful attention to his accent. “You shoulda said so! Naw, you go’ it all wrong. I told ya I din’t want ter impose. You’ve been way too nice ter me, and I din’t want ter make you feel uncomfortable on the _fourth day we’ve known each other_ , yeah?”

Harry stared at him carefully, and Eggsy knew that Harry didn’t buy a word of his excuse, but he held his smile anyway and promised to pray for forgiveness for practically lying in Harry’s face.

Then the older man took his hand.

Eggsy knew what was coming when he did, but he didn’t stop it, didn’t stop Harry from pressing his lips to his ring. He knew why he didn’t. He knew he’d be eternally damned for wanting it, for encouraging it. He knew Harry would hate him when Eggsy finally got around to explaining the correct custom to him.

But for now, he didn’t stop it.

The older man straightened in his seat and gave Eggsy a warm, if forced, smile. “I’ll see you later, Eggsy,” he said.

Eggsy nodded and fled.

……………

Eggsy had managed to brush Harry off the next day without any feelings hurt because the mayor and the women’s church group had requested for his audience for most of the day while they planned for the church’s anniversary celebration, a town event. It was one of the most boring meetings he had ever been part of. They’d debated colors and activities and decorations for half the day and planned everything out for the rest of it, and Eggsy had been stuck there feigning interest in all of it. He’d almost felt sorry for brushing Harry off.

The following day, Eggsy had a surprise visit from the representative of the diocese for updates on his new position. It took all of two days for the inspection and reports to go through, and Harry didn’t show up once. Eggsy had been incredibly thankful for that because he wasn’t quite sure how his friendship with Harry would come across to an outsider. He may have been overly paranoid because, really, what had he to be paranoid about? But Eggsy felt it was better to be safe.

On a Monday afternoon, the day after the representative had left, Eggsy had called Harry, intending to finally put closure into the rift created by their miscommunication. He was hoping Harry hadn’t been too put off by his unavailability and planned to make up for it with a day together at the library.

Harry sounded odd over the phone, however, and on persuasion, agreed to come visit Eggsy at the church.

“I have to leave for a while, Eggsy,” he explained on arriving and settling in for tea. Eggsy immediately frowned.

“Oh? Where are you headed off to?” he asked.

Harry sighed. “To Sweden for two weeks, unfortunately. I’ve been invited to help Kingsman tailor the suits of the wedding party of Princess Tilde. She’s to marry, soon, and of course they want only the best.”

“Ah. Great opportunity, then,” Eggsy said brightly. He only hoped Harry believed his feigned enthusiasm, but by Harry’s look, it was clear he didn’t.

“I’m sorry I can’t be around for a while, Eggsy,” he said and did sound apologetic, then more teasingly, “But do try to make some other friends while I’m not around.”

Eggsy laughed and flicked him with a bit of tea in retaliation. 

That small bit of banter helped uplift his mood for the next two weeks, knowing he’d not mucked up their friendship completely. 

Additionally, that time apart gave Eggsy ample time to reflect on himself. He had decided that the Lord must have been testing him, testing his commitment to his vow of celibacy, and testing his shameful desires, so Eggsy threw himself back into his sermons and studies and other duties. 

He mingled with the other parishioners after masses, and made new friends--none like Harry was, but friends nonetheless. He attended two birthdays and one casual social event down at the local pub and even got the chance to sit down with a young couple who were thinking of marrying. Not that Eggsy was old enough to give decent marriage advice, but at least he could give them insight on the religious end of things.

Those two weeks passed by fairly easily in that regard, and thus, it genuinely surprised Eggsy to hear a familiar voice saying, “I’ve missed the wisdom of your words these past two weeks,” from the door of the sacristy. 

Eggsy whirled around to see Harry standing in the doorway, looking like he had never left. His smile was bright as it was fond, and Eggsy was immensely glad to see it again.

“‘Ow was the weddin’? Got me a bit of a look on the computer. Fancy event,” he said. 

Harry, leaning against the door jamb and looking like the prince Eggsy knew he wasn’t really, answered, “Full of uptight old bastards and pretentious etiquette rules. I’d much rather be back here with you at Deepcut.” The answer touched Eggsy’s heart, made him feel warm all over.

“Well, I’m glad you’re back. I--”

“Harry?” a distinctly female voice called. Eggsy’s heart fell into the pit of his stomach when a gorgeous young girl, maybe as old as Eggsy himself, in a pristine suit like Harry’s peered into the sacristy.

The older man noticed his gaze and stepped aside to let her in. “I have friends visiting,” he offered by way of explanation just before another man followed in behind the girl. Harry gestured to him. “My good friend, Merlin, and his protege, Roxanne.”

Merin was a man of Harry’s height, bald and severe looking, wearing a jumper that belied that severity. He gave Eggsy a tight smile and a hard handshake.

Roxanne greeted Eggsy with an enthusiastic handshake and a warm, “Hello, Father Gary. Call me Roxy, please.” The genuine joy in her tone made Eggsy feel guilty over his initial reaction. “I’m glad to finally meet you. We’ve heard so much about you on our trip to Sweden.” Then gave Harry a cheeky glance. “ _So_ much.” Eggsy had to focus on suppressing the blush on his face before they misinterpreted it.

“All good things I hope,” he said offhandedly.

“Oh, they were _very_ good things, Father, don’t you worry,” Roxy laughed. 

Eggsy sent a glance to Harry who shrugged embarrassedly, but said nothing. With no help on that front, he turned back to Harry’s friends. “Have you been in town long?” he asked to be polite.

“Not at all,” Roxy answered. “We’ve only just arrived from London, but we shan’t be staying long either. I’m afraid our schedules aren’t as permitting as Harry’s is, so vacations don’t take more than a day.”

“Ah, I see. Pity, that. We have beautiful parks that you should see while you’re here, though, but I’m sure Harry knows more about the town than I do,” Eggsy said. “Unless you’ve been here before, of course, then maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about and should shut up now.” Roxy and Harry chuckled, and though Merlin didn’t, he, too, seemed amused.

“I wonder, Eggsy, if you’d join us for tea this afternoon?” Harry interjected. “I’m afraid I’ve been tasked with hosting these two until tomorrow, and they haven’t been shy in informing me, _repeatedly_ , that they find my company boring. I was wondering if you could help liven it up.” 

A laugh was startled out of Eggsy when he asked, “You? Boring? Since when?” And then he realized what he said and how he said it and glanced at Roxy and Merlin, who were only smiling serenely. “I, uh, enjoy his stories,” he tried to explain.

“As did I when I first met him,” Roxy agreed, bringing relief to Eggsy. “But that was way back when.” In a conspiratorial whisper, she added, “He forgets which stories he’s already told and thus repeats them far too often.”

Harry sighed a “ _Roxanne_ ” while Eggsy laughed brightly. “Shall we proceed for tea or am I to endure more badgering first?”

“Why not both?” Roxy asked cheekily. Then linked her arms with Eggsy and kept it there all the way through the car ride to the cake shop.

“So ‘ow long ‘ave you known Harry?” Eggsy asked while Roxy poked at his treacle tart.

“Merlin and I--”

“Come on, Harry,” Eggsy cut in with a cheeky smile. “We’re talkin’ _about_ you, not _to_ you.” Harry leveled him a glare, but he only laughed.

Merlin was grinning broadly now. “Oh, I like you,” he told Eggsy who grinned back. “Harry and I learned our trade together when we were but boys. My uncle met him when he was at Oxford and introduced him to Kingsman. We’ve been friends since then.”

“And wot was ‘e like back then?”

Merlin turned an evaluative look to a glaring Harry. “Well, the Harry you see now is a paragon of virtue compared to who he was then. He was literally a devil in disguise.” Roxy seemed to find that hilarious. Eggsy looked at her in bemusement. “If I hadn’t known better, I’d say he’d been replaced completely by nanobots in the brain.”

“That’s ‘ard ter imagine,” Eggsy offered to Harry with a smile. “He as absolute angel at church.” Roxy only laughed harder, making Eggsy claim defensively, “Wot? ‘e is!”

Harry coughed lightly. “I believe jet lag is getting to Roxanne.”

They asked Eggsy about his decision to join the church, to which he gave the same cryptic answer he first gave Harry, but then he followed it up with tales of him at the seminary, of his schooling before then, of his mates Ryan and Jamal, of his sister Daisy. In return, they told him about themselves, about Kingsman, and about Harry. And when they finally dropped him back off at the church with promises of breakfast the following morning before they leave, Eggsy felt like he’d made two new friends.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, then, yeah?” he asked. Reluctance to step away was clear in his demeanor as he fought to prolong their goodbyes.

“Yes, tomorrow,” Roxy confirmed with a nod. “Then we’ll come hang out again the next time we’re in town. I daresay you’ll be seeing us more frequently now that our visits aren’t quite as mundane.” Harry rolled her eyes at her teasing, then reached for Eggsy’s hand.

Without an ounce of hesitation, he bent over and pressed a kiss to his finger. Like before, it stunned Eggsy into silence.

Roxy and Merlin seemed to light up with delight at the action before Harry straightened and released his hand. With a nod, a “see you tomorrow,” and a sunny smile, the older man turned and gestured for them to follow him back into the car.

Only then did Eggsy remember he wasn’t wearing his ring.

………...

Eggsy heard someone rap twice on the door and then let themselves in. He looked up only to find Harry there and breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been consumed by church activities for most of the week--the majority of it leading up to the anniversary celebration--and it felt like it had been _weeks_ since Eggsy had last seen Harry. 

Right now, he was a breath of fresh air from the various people from the women’s group, local government, and the diocese who had inundated him with meetings left, right, and center.

“Hi, Harry,” he said, setting his pen down. Harry tilted a smile at him.

“Are you busy?” he asked. There was no need for pleasantries between them anymore, and Eggsy was glad for it. He nodded, eager for Harry’s company. “Good. Come with me, I want to show you the shop.”

And yes, the shop. It had, of course, occurred to Eggsy before then that they had yet to visit his tailoring business. That first day at the cake shop and the one with Roxy and Merlin, they did talk in depth about Harry’s training at Kingsman, but that had mostly been the end of it. He’d asked once or twice to see it, but Harry had managed to sidestep the request to bring him there. He must have had his reasons for doing so, so Eggsy didn’t push.

Today, though, they were finally headed there, and Eggsy was just maybe a little bit eager.

They took the car up to Stickle Down, with Eggsy driving while being laughingly guided by Harry (“No, Eggsy--Slow down! You need to turn he--You missed it; we’ll have to go around the block _again_. Honestly, Eggsy! How in the world am I to direct you if you insist on breaking every speed limit in town and missing the turn-offs? You’re the parish priest. You’re supposed to set a good example!”), and stopped in front of an unassuming building that bore the words ‘Deepcut Tailors’ in a plain font on the window.

“Imaginative,” Eggsy teased, as he turned off the engine.

“A gentleman does not over elaborate where no elaboration at all is needed,” Harry answered mock sagely.

Eggsy leveled a _look_ at him. “At this point, I’m pretty sure yer just makin’ them gentleman rules up, bruv,” he told him with a certain degree of disbelief. Harry only smiled mysteriously. 

They alighted the car, and Harry led the way up the steps, fiddling with his keys, while Eggsy tried to peek inside the dark room after admiring the exquisitely dressed window mannequins. “Here,” Harry called when he’d opened up the door. Eggsy followed him in, taking care of where he stepped and marveling at the room all the same.

“ _Very_ nice, Harry,” he whistled appreciatively, and it was. The walls were a nice deep green with wood paneling abound, the same aesthetic as Harry’s home, actually. The shelves were stocked with fabrics of varying types. Sewing and measuring equipment--mostly decorative--were stored in their proper, equally decorative containers, and the mannequins dotting the room were dressed in some of Harry’s finest work. “I’d have thought I were in Kingsman if I din’t know any better.”

Harry smiled. “Ah, yes. We share the same style, but I promise it wasn’t intended to copy them,” he said, hanging up his coat and doing the same for Eggsy’s. “I have Lewis Hall and Kyle Bennett here some days to help out. They hang about the grocery shop just across the road. Very nice boys, but they tend to loiter when they should be busy, so I put them to work from time to time. Keeps them out of trouble.”

“A very selfless act, indeed, Mr. Hart.” Eggsy affected an enormously pompous voice, for which Harry flicked his ear.

“Be nice,” he chided with a chuckle. “I have something for you. This way, Eggsy.” Eggsy’s giddiness for being at the shop found its next level as Harry led him up the narrow staircase into a room that he realized was as different from downstairs as different could be. 

Rolls of fabric were piled haphazardly on the floor in the most inconvenient of locations. Strips of cut fabric decorated every chair, window sill, and even the light fixture. Pin cushions and cups bearing scissors, pens, and measuring tapes perched precariously on various furniture, and the two sewing machines--one classic and one modern--and embroidery machine were in a complete state of disarray. Body forms were swathed in unused fabric, and teacups littered the room at random intervals.

Eggsy wondered how Harry could get anything _done_.

“It’s an organized chaos,” Harry assured him, stepping through the rubble with ease. Eggsy had to nearly crawl through to keep from disturbing anything.

“Bruv, this is like. A whole different person,” he said, distastefully eyeing a teacup with what seemed to be dried up tea inside. “Don’t you get the boys to clean up here?”

“And mess with my organization?” Harry scoffed absently.

Eggsy looked around incredulously. “ _What_ organization? Bruv, it looks like a _bomb_ exploded in ‘ere. I’m ‘alf expecting ter see random body parts lyin’ hereabouts.” Harry shushed him and dug headfirst into a deep wardrobe, mumbling incoherently to himself. Eggsy quirked a grin. “You got Narnia in there, Harry? Am I gunna have ter save you from a centaur?” Harry mumbled again. “Wot was that?” Eggsy asked, silently laughing.

“I said,” Harry answered, pulling himself out of the closet, “that the centaurs were on the good side. You’d have to save me from the minotaurs.”

Eggsy was silent for all of a second before he started cackling madly. “You are _such_ a dork!”

Harry only looked pleased with himself. “Yes, well. I’m a dork who is giving you this.” And then Eggsy finally looked at the item of clothing Harry held up, and his world stopped spinning. 

Harry held up one of the most gorgeous pieces of vestments Eggsy had seen in person. The chasuble was made mainly of pale gold velvet with an elegant damask pattern in the same pale gold for a subtler effect that professed both humility and grandeur at the same time. Offsetting such extravagance, the neckline, sleeve edges, and front of the chasuble were decorated with a darker gold mulberry silk and a more modern design than Father Froggatt’s chasuble: a pattern of silver and gold embroidered lines running down the length of the garment, making it seem like the rays of the sun falling like raindrops.

He was sure vestments like this were fit only for the pope. 

It was beautiful--the single most extravagant gift Eggsy had ever received. 

“I made it for the anniversary,” Harry explained. “I know it’s coming up in a few weeks; I thought you might want to wear this for your mass.” 

Absorbed in the beauty of it, Eggsy hardly thought to ask how long it took Harry to make. He’d said Father Froggatt’s took him weeks; this was just as elaborate, but they’d only known each other for a month at most--certainly not enough time to have had it done by then, right? Or maybe Harry had already started on it for Father Froggatt as another gift and simply passed it on to Eggsy on his death? Yes, that has to be it.

“Try it on,” Harry suggested, voice low and nearly reverent. “I also made the alb and cincture for it.” He took the garments out of their protective plastic and helped Eggsy put them on, tugging the alb over his clothes, tying the cincture around his waist, and smoothing the chasuble in place. He took a moment to adjust here and brush there. Then he physically turned Eggsy to the nearest mirror by his shoulders and asked, “What do you think?”

Eggsy was in awe of it. He smoothed his hands down the front, feeling the smooth silk and velvet and the contrasting roughness of the embroidery beneath his fingertips. It was decadent was what it was, _powerful_ , and Eggsy felt like he could conquer the world.

He lifted his eyes up to Harry’s through the mirror to thank him in earnest and to express his undying friendship, only to find Harry watching him with dark, dark eyes. 

He suddenly became very aware of the hands on his shoulders and the hard body brushing up against his back.

“It’s--” he tried, words stuck in his throat.

“You look perfect,” Harry said, voice still low, eyes still dark. The hands on Eggsy’s shoulders grew warm through his clothes while they kneaded circles into his muscles there. A moan hovered at the back of his throat, held there by only sheer will.

This was wrong. 

This was wrong, wrong, wrong, and Harry, kind, generous Harry… He’d _corrupted_ him. Filled him with his sick ways, influenced him with his position as priest and--

‘Oh my Lord, forgive me,’ Eggsy thought with growing horror. He jerked out of Harry’s touch and whirled around to find only confusion on Harry’s face--none of the darkness he’d seen through the mirror. He choked a sob back and hurriedly threw off the garments.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Harry as he staggered back, away from him and the clothes. Harry reached from him, but he took another step back, bumping into a stack of cloth and toppling the sewing materials to the ground. A teacup tinkled as it smashed into pieces. Eggsy startled and looked around, then looked back at Harry with horrified apology written clear on his face. “I’m sorry, Harry, I shouldn’t have--I---” 

He choked back another sob and ran down the stairs.

…………....

“I’m in need of confession,” Harry told Eggsy in his office, halfway through their first pot of tea. They had been talking about nothing of consequence before it: the anniversary, Sweden’s wedding which the tailors of Kingsman had been invited to attend, the weather. It was pleasant, calming. Dreamlike even. Eggsy relished it, reveled in it like a sunbathing cat. He wished every day were like today.

But the warm, familiar atmosphere of their tea together turned serious on Harry’s declaration. Eggsy, of course, took such admissions to heart. Confession was, after all, one of the most important sacraments. 

He offered to Harry, in his most sincere voice, “Of course, Harry. I’d be happy to hear you.” He gestured to the church proper. “Would you like to do this in the confessional?”

Harry shook his head and said, “There’s no need for anonymity when we both know who the other is.”

“True,” Eggsy answered with a soft laugh and moved to rise. “Let me just get my--” But Harry stopped him from standing with a hand on his thigh and, when he did, the older man slid fluidly to his knees between Eggsy’s. 

The priest’s insides ran cold.

“There’s no need for that, Eggsy,” Harry said easily. His voice was pitched low and his head bowed in humility, but the position only caused each of Eggsy’s nerves to vibrate inside him. Harry took his hand and reverently pressed a kiss to his finger, undecorated by his ring.

With his mouth still against skin and his voice nothing but a whisper, Harry recited, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

Eggsy’s heart thudded in his chest as Harry continued, “I cannot help but find myself _burning_ with monstrous desire for a man half my age with a virtue untouched by the evils of sin. When I am with him, I feel lust raging within me and my control waning. He is terribly beautiful and immeasurably pure, and I fear that one day, I shall not be able to control my need to see him beneath me, to touch his skin, and taste his mouth.” 

Searing heat lanced through Eggsy with Harry’s words, and his entire being trembled with desire. 

“I don’t have my ring on,” were the first words to stumble out of his mouth. 

He didn’t know why he said that or what purpose he intended for them to serve, but Harry looked up, his eyes glinting and his mouth still on Eggsy’s hand, and murmured, “I know.”

Eggsy couldn’t move, pinned in place by the predatory look of the man below him, and for some unfathomable reason, Eggsy felt like _he_ was the one kneeling.

Like he wanted to.

He jerked his hand away like he was burned and stumbled back, tripping over the chair he sat on and staggering back into the closest wall. 

Harry followed him with a beautiful, fluid grace Eggsy had never seen before. He sidestepped Eggsy’s chair and stalked forward like a hunting tiger, bearing the ravenous expression of the same, and when Eggsy finally found himself pressed against the wall behind him, he also found Harry pressed against his front.

“I--I--” the young priest stuttered, but found he couldn’t speak in the face of Harry’s hunger.

“You don’t seem to understand how utterly sumptuous you are,” Harry purred, his breath washing over Eggsy’s face as he leaned close.

“I--Harry--” Eggsy’s words were cut off by a startled sound when Harry’s mouth found his neck. “Harry--Harry…!”

“My lust for you has no bounds, my sweet priest,” the other man continued while his hands circled Eggsy’s waist to pull him flush up against Harry. Eggsy couldn’t miss the hard line of the body beneath the suit, exquisite against his own, and couldn’t stop the heat from pooling in his groin. Harry mouthed at his neck, _branding_ the skin his lips touched. “Give yourself to me, Eggsy,” he growled as though he expected Eggsy to do just that.

“Please,” Eggsy begged, his eyes shut and head tilted back against the wall. Harry hummed a line down his throat. Skin caught between Harry’s teeth and tore a reluctant moan from Eggsy’s mouth. “Please,” he tried again, not quite sure what he wanted.

And then Harry was kissing him, a sharp, biting thing that liquefied his knees and scalded his heart. He grasped at Harry’s jacket, the only action possible out of him while Harry _devoured_ him.

It was pleasure Eggsy had never felt before, a temptation he couldn’t possibly refuse.

And then Harry pulled away as abruptly as he started.

There was a minute of stillness, an hour of tension between them, just Harry looking into Eggsy’s face and finding a wreck of a man, of Eggsy looking into Harry’s and finding possession. Harry lifted a hand to Eggsy’s face and traced his cheek gently. His thumb came away moist, and Eggsy watched him lift it to his mouth to suck on. The priest gasped in a sharp breath when he did and quickly lifted his own hand to his face to scrub at his eyes.

Harry grabbed his wrist and brought it to his mouth, nipping and licking at the wetness on it like Eggsy’s tears were a delicacy he craved. Eggsy almost expected him to lick his cheeks afterwards, but Harry only pinned the wrist to the wall Eggsy was once more pressed up against and promised in a voice that sent shivers running through his body, “You will be mine, my beautiful boy.” 

 

 

Eggsy woke up, panting and sticky.

…………...

Eggsy was a coward, no ifs and buts about it.

He had been actively avoiding Harry for the past week by locking himself up in the church during his free time, by engaging other parishioners in conversation after mass so that Harry wouldn't be able to do so, by giving the man tight polite smiles and quickly turning away and ignoring him. 

The one time Harry had managed to ask him out for lunch, he'd told him he was helping out the anniversary committee, which he technically _was_ going to do, but not exactly over lunch. By the twisted frown Harry gave him to match the despondent “I understand,” Eggsy knew Harry didn’t believe him.

But after that, Harry took the hint. He stopped approaching Eggsy and stopped trying to get his attention, but that wasn't to say he didn't stop watching him with those dark eyes and tiny frown around his mouth that Eggsy wanted to smooth with his fingers. 

Harry still attended mass every day, a dark temptation in the middle of the bright congregation, a temptation that Eggsy willed himself to overcome or else request for a transfer to rid himself of completely. But this was _his_ community now; he didn’t want to leave them, and not for the simple reason of succumbing to his weakness. He had to face the devil head on and conquer him. It’s what the Lord would want.

He had managed to suppress it back at the seminary, and he could do it again. So he did until the sight of Harry out of reach didn't make his fingers itch, until his days were no longer devoid of joy, but filled with the fulfillment of prayer, until he could stand to hear Harry's polite "Good afternoon, Father," and not crave his warm, teasing tone.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Hart," he could answer easily even when he wanted to tell Harry how much he missed him.

But it was fine. _He_ was fine.

He found the days were placid and quiet and allowed him the chance to connect with the other people in town. It was what he should have done all those weeks ago.

He knew--right from the start--that forging a bond too strongly with a single person would isolate the rest of the congregation. He knew it and did it anyway, and look what had happened. The Lord had tried him and found him wanting. 

He’d failed and could only hope to redeem himself to the Lord once more.

Severing ties with Harry was the right thing to do. It was a good choice--a painful one, yes, but sacrifices need to be made for the betterment of the majority.

And if at night, his dreams were filled with dark eyes and blistering heat… well, the Lord had forgiven for worse.

It was that thought that was the focus of Eggsy’s current reflection and prayers. He asked the Lord why he was sent such dreams to plague his nights and torment him so. Was it a test? Was it punishment? What should he do for these to stop that he might focus his efforts instead in uplifting the community?

The silence of his prayer room echoed about him, providing tranquility, but no answer.

And then it was broken when the door opened.

Eggsy froze in his place, still on his knees before the crucifix, hands clasped, and eyes squeezed shut. He needn’t have turned to know who had interrupted him. Only one person would dare enter without his permission, and the scent of smoky sandalwood and whisky that permeated the air only confirmed it. He sent up a desperate prayer for strength.

“Eggsy,” Harry whispered into the renewed silence. The door clicked shut, and two footsteps brought Harry closer to him.

“Please leave,” Eggsy said tightly. He winced internally at the bite in his tone, but outwardly persevered for the sake of his vow and of his congregation. “I’m in the middle of my prayers and would thank you not to be disturbed.” Two more steps forward.

“I need you, Eggsy,” Harry confessed. And _oh_ , those words were pure seduction--not the sexual kind that made him throb with want, but the passionate kind that made Eggsy’s head spin. “I need you with me like I’ve never needed anyone before.” Harry sunk to his knees behind Eggsy, his suit whispering over Eggsy’s clothes, but no further contact than that. “Like the Earth needs the Sun and like the fish need water. Eggsy, I love you beyond what I thought I was capable of. 

“I--I thought father had stripped it all away from me, left me incapable of loving another, but you…” he trailed off, leaning into Eggsy and hovering at his shoulder, breath warming his ear.

Eggsy held perfectly still because any give in his posture would have him melting into Harry. He feared Harry’s touch because… because he wasn’t strong enough to resist.

“Please,” he begged softly, desperately.

“I told you that Father Froggatt restored my faith in humanity,” Harry continued to say. “You, my beloved, are teaching me to love it.” Then Harry grasped his arm, and Eggsy choked out half-hearted protest. “I need you to know something about me, Eggsy,” the man continued, turning Eggsy to face him. It was distressing how easily he was able to do so all because Eggsy had _let him_ , but Eggsy kept his eyes shut in defiance, turning his head away as if he could deny that he had allowed him to do so.

“Eggsy, please,” Harry implored, nearly desperate in his pleading. “I want you to know this because… because you deserve to know and because I want you to accept me for who I am with the knowledge that I am sincere in this.” 

It was at that voice, that request that Eggsy opened his eyes and turned to him.

“Know what?” he asked hesitantly.

Harry dropped his gaze and ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh that sounded partially relieved now that Eggsy was willing to listen. Then he looked back up at Eggsy and said, “We should probably sit for this, and… and can you promise me you’ll withhold judgement until I finish?”

Eggsy stole a glance to the door, a reflex in his wonder if there was a reason why Harry looked so _afraid_ to reveal his secret. Did he commit murder? Brutalize someone? Eggsy had heard the worst of the worst when he had given confession in Wakefield Prison back when he was still studying; after that experience, he was sure there was nothing Harry could say that would make Eggsy fear him. It was on that thought that he agreed. 

“Okay,” he said with a nod. “We can talk in the office.”

Harry nodded back and helped Eggsy to his feet. If he didn’t drop Eggsy’s hand on the way to the other room, Eggsy didn’t complain either.

They settled on opposite sides of the desk. Unlike their usual talks, this time Eggsy didn’t bother with tea. He only waited for Harry to gather his thoughts and start to speak.

“You’re the worst kind of person for me to fall in love with, Eggsy,” Harry started with. Eggsy wasn’t offended because falling in love with a Catholic priest _was_ hard. “I could have anyone I want--and I mean this very literally.” Eggsy frowned at what seemed like braggadocio even if his tone did not declare it as such, but he didn’t interrupt. “Easier targets who would return my affections without batting an eye in spite of or even _because_ of who I am. You, however. 

“You would hate me.”

It broke Eggsy’s heart to hear how simply it was said.

“Then why me?” he asked because if there was a chance someone out there was far better than he for Harry, he deserved to be with that person.

Harry laughed, soft and humorless. “There’s only one being able to explain what love is and how it works, and believe me. He is not willing to share that information--it amuses him to withhold it. I would even daresay it was he who set this up if I didn’t know that he didn’t care. As it is, I stumbled on my love for you by chance, and I cannot undo it.

“You must understand, though, that I did nothing special to encourage it. I admit that I did not stop it from happening because I wanted it, I wanted you. I may have indulged myself in wooing you, but it would have been nothing out of the ordinary had you been wooed by another man. If you fail to believe in anything I say, believe in that.” And then in a desperate voice, “You have to.”

Eggsy was confused. He was so, so confused. “I don’t understand.”

“I know. I know, I’m sorry, darling. You will understand when I show you, but I need you first to believe me that my intentions toward you have been nothing but pure,” Harry said, still desperate.

Eggsy scoffed. “Pure? You’re telling a _Catholic priest_ that you want to have _homosexual relations_ with him. That’s not pure.”

Harry pursed his lips. “You’ve been brought up and _educated_ by men who know nothing beyond the scope of their own lives. You’ve been fed with half-truths and whole lies constructed by the men before you and the men before them to suit their own beliefs and their own purposes. It doesn’t make any of it true.”

“Are you telling me you’re an atheist?” Eggsy asked skeptically, almost in relief because _atheism_ he could handle.

“No. No, Eggsy, far from it,” Harry answered with a sigh. “But you’ve been fed lies that will affect what you think of me. 

“Eggsy, remember all the times that we’ve been together. Please believe that all my words, all my actions then and those now have all been free from malice. I am not saying I am a perfect man, free from any evils and errors because no one, _no one_ is perfect. But towards you, Eggsy, I have been nothing but pure in my affections.”

“Harry, you’re beating around the bush,” Eggsy said, growing even more confused by the second. “Just _spit it out_.” Harry looked deep into his eyes for a long moment, nodded, and stood.

And then he rolled his shoulders and cricked his neck, and, to Eggsy’s horror and shock, wings and horns slowly sprouted from his back and head.

‘Oh my dear God,’ Eggsy thought, his eyes growing wide in panic as the black feathered wings unfurled before his eyes, filling the room and blocking off the door. He glanced at it once and decided that he wouldn’t reach it before Harry could stop him. Instead, his heart thumping madly in his chest, he grasped the crucifix around his neck and considered the window behind him. His chair moved back an inch as he tried to move away from Harry.

“Y--You’re--” he stuttered. His fear shielded him from the hurt in Harry’s eyes.

“They called me Lucifer,” Harry told him, sadly. He reached an arm out to stroke his feathers wistfully. “The morning star--brightest of all angels. These weren’t blackened then, and this--” He stroked his horns. “--used to be a halo.” They were thick and curled and would have been beautiful had they been found on a ram. On Harry, though, they looked fearsome. Sarcastically, he added, “But I suppose I should _thank_ father that he didn’t turn me into those gruesome beasts you humans depict in your literature.”

“Your father…” Eggsy said, mostly to himself, understanding the truth behind the ‘life story’ Harry had fed him that first day.

“My father is the God Almighty, and my youngest brother.” Harry gave Eggsy a pointed look. “Is you. Humans.

“I did not mind you humans when the father first created you,” he continued. “Father has his reasons, and he has his ways. I had my job, my purpose--to care for _all_ of his creations--and that was that. But when you started destroying the Earth, committing mass genocide against other creations, wiping hundreds of species out of existence, I knew it had to be stopped. But father favored you too much as you were; he refused to take action, and when I had the _audacity_ to suggest we clean the Earth, not of every human being, but only of the evil humans that littered it, he stripped me of most of my power and banished me.

“‘Let them live and learn and grow,’ he said,” Harry scoffed at the crucifix on the wall. “Thousands of years later, you have yet to do so. 

“I wanted to wipe you out, just to spite father. For a long while, I worked for it, prodding all the right people to do the wrong things. Understand, though, that I did not create darkness in them--I have no capacity for creation. I only pushed them to listen to their dark desires and ignore the right ones.”

A pause and then a somber tone saying, “And then I met Father Froggatt who made me want to save the worthy, to keep them from harm while punishing the wicked.” Harry turned to look at Eggsy, deeply and earnestly. 

“And then I met you, and I want to save you all.”

Eggsy was stunned and still largely alarmed at the _devil_ pacing his office. _The_ Devil. The Prince of Hell. Satan himself.

The man who laughed at his jokes and favored him with attention and _begged_ him not to think the worst of him.

Here he was, being told that the foundation of his belief was wrong, by the devil who was known the world over for his evil and his treachery and his lies. 

Who was he to believe? That being who was said to be, by the founding fathers of his religion and every generation thereafter, the root cause for all the evils in the world, or the being himself who had revealed his true nature to Eggsy on the hope that Eggsy would return his affections.

He couldn’t decide now. He needed to think. He needed to pray.

But would prayer really help him now? Was God even listening?

Eggsy felt even more lost than before.

“He’s not, Eggsy,” Harry said in response to the unasked question. “He rarely does. You’ve only yourself to rely on--but you always have, and you’ve always done wonderfully.” Eggsy blinked at him, and he admitted, “Yes, I can read your mind.”

“How--” Eggsy cut himself off.

“I always have,” Harry answered, stepping forward. “But I’ve never used any of my powers on you, Eggsy. I swear it on our father.” He stopped where he was when Eggsy shrunk back. Resigned, he said softly, “I understand.” His hand fell to his side and his horns and wings retracted, and once more, Harry Hart--the man Eggsy had come to care for--stood before him. “I’ll give you all the time you need. You know where to find me.”

At the door, Harry turned back and said softly, “I really do love you, Eggsy. I hope you find it in yourself to believe _me_ rather than the doctrine of a bunch of ignorant misogynists.”

…………...

“... _I absolve you of your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen_ ,” he murmured through the confessional grate. Susan Jacoby murmured an ‘amen’ and a ‘thank you, Father Gary,’ and Eggsy heard the door shut behind her. 

He let out a sigh and tipped his head back against the back wall while he waited for his next confession.

It wasn’t as though he was _resigned_ to listen to and forgive the sins of others; he could sit all day with nary a word of complaint if it meant he could save every soul that came across his path. But this afternoon. This afternoon was trying.

His head was filled with confusion, and his heart ached, and he only wanted to spend a long while just going through the thoughts in his head.

When no one came in the next few minutes, he pushed at his door to check outside if any of the parishioners were still waiting their turn--he was sure there had been more of them. The door yielded to his touch, but then almost immediately shut again. Only, when it did, Eggsy looked up to find Harry on the inside with him.

Eggsy gaped up at him, not quite sure of what to say when Harry pinned him into his chair with his intense gaze. His horns and wings were nowhere in sight, but his eyes were a burning red.

“What are you doing here?” Eggsy finally demanded, proud of himself at the hardness in his voice at Harry pushing his boundaries. He had promised to give Eggsy time. 

His pride, though, almost immediately evaporated when Harry bent to lean over him. A hand tipped his chin up, and without a word of warning, Harry’s mouth found his. 

Eggsy was embarrassed to say he didn’t stop him. He was distraught when his hands found the lapels of Harry’s jacket and curled into them. “Stop,” he tried to say into Harry’s mouth. He tried to push Harry back. 

He didn’t try very hard.

“You want me,” Harry growled, climbing into his lap and pressing into the priest. He took both wrists and pinned them above his head even when Eggsy wouldn’t have pushed him away anyway. Eggsy sobbed a half-hearted sound of protest when he felt the hard line of an erection pressing against his own half-hard one. 

“I don’t,” he said, so Harry slammed their mouths together once more. Eggsy whined at the sharp burst of pain and whimpered at the apologetic licks. Unconsciously, he opened his mouth to encourage more.

“I can’t,” he sobbed when Harry pulled back.

“Of course you can,” Harry growled, low and dangerous that reverberated down Eggsy’s spine. The air around them grew dark and heavy, and the hands at his wrists tightened. He whined once more and tipped his head back and shut his eyes as though he was drunk. He felt drunk. 

“Do you think he _cares_?” Harry demanded in that same dangerous tone. “Do you think out of seven billion of you, he cares about a single one?” Eggsy had to grasp at his thoughts to understand what Harry was asking.

“He does,” he tried because who else could Harry be talking about? 

The man laughed, a sinister thing, and then his teeth were worrying Eggsy’s skin, so he ignored it for now. Harry ground his hips decidedly against Eggsy and extracted one moan after another from him. Eggsy was hard--he was so hard, he wanted to come. 

He nearly did, but Harry suddenly yanked him off of the chair and reversed their positions, perching Eggsy on his lap. “Give yourself to me,” he purred, encouraging Eggsy to grind against him. Eggsy did. “Give yourself to me and ask forgiveness later.” And wasn’t that a reasonable suggestion?

“Yes,” Eggsy whined into Harry’s ear. His head lolled into the corner of Harry’s neck, and he kissed and sucked at the skin there. The flesh was hot in his mouth, like Harry was running a fever. It was unusual as it was intriguing, so Eggsy gathered more of it, tasted different parts to see if those too ran hot. 

Harry murmured encouragements at him, whispered endearments like “Yes, my darling” and “That’s it. You’re doing so well, beautiful creature” that filled Eggsy’s senses like a smooth scotch. His hands raked down Eggsy’s back and cupped his arse, slipped between the globes and rubbing at the furled hole, and oh. When did Eggsy lose his trousers?

He started to ask, but a finger pushed into his hole, huge and dry, and suddenly, all Eggsy could think about was how big it felt and how no one had ever touched him there before. “Harry,” he sobbed, shifting away from the intrusion before Harry managed to still his hips with a solid grip. The finger teasing at his hole was lifted to his mouth and tapped his lips.

“Open,” he was commanded, and Eggsy didn’t question it. His lips parted and the finger slipped in easily, swiping at the insides of his mouth and teasing it. Harry licked the corners of his lips as a reward when Eggsy sucked, but he told Eggsy, “Make it nice and wet, lovely boy, and I’ll make you see stars.”

The finger came away sopping and reached behind him to once more push into his hole. “Oh!” Eggsy gasped, wanting to pull away from the strange, unpleasant sensations. But then Harry growled and held him still, and so he did while the finger pushed and pulled and curled inside him. 

Like in his mouth, the digit swiped at his insides, learning and memorizing and searching until, finally, it seemed as though Harry had found what he was looking for because his lips curled into a sly smile, and electricity _zinged_ through Eggsy’s body.

He was pretty sure he screamed. He was perfectly sure he rutted up against Harry’s suit with careless abandon while Harry’s finger pushed and tapped and prodded and prodded and prodded against that point that made his nerves sing. “Harry, Harry, Harry,” Eggsy begged as his hips thrust and his arse sought its object of pleasure. “Harry,” he whined.

“You’re lovely, coming undone for me, my sweet priest,” Harry purred, easy as though he wasn’t ruining Eggsy in a confessional box in a busy church. “I want you like this all the time, my love, and I _will_ have you like this all the time. You will give yourself to me.”

“Yes, Harry,” Eggsy sobbed, riding the finger in his arse. It was pleasure tangled up in confusing sensations, but Eggsy wanted it, wanted _more_.

The door to the other box opened, and Eggsy froze. The grate was closed, but the parishioner would be expecting it opened. He glanced down at Harry who smiled his same sly smile.

Once more, their positions were flipped. Then Harry sunk to his knees between Eggsy’s spread ones. There wasn’t a lot of space, so Harry slung Eggsy’s legs over his shoulder before he took the whole of Eggsy’s length into his mouth. Eggsy swallowed a yell and shoved a hand into Harry’s hair for purchase.

“Father Gary?” Amelia Lockhart called through the shut grate, and Harry reached up to open it. 

Eggsy willed his voice into some semblance of order so that he could say, “Yes, my child?” while Harry continued to suck his cock.

“Good afternoon, Father,” Amelia greeted politely. “Shall I start?” she asked, and Eggsy gave an approximate noise of affirmation. “Bless me father, for I have sinned. I’ve last confessed my wrongdoings a fortnight ago. Here are the errors of my ways that I lift up to the Lord for forgiveness…”

And God help him, Eggsy sent up a prayer of his own when Harry’s tongue twisted wickedly over the head of his cock. He stilled himself as best as he could, but could only hope that his tiny, aborted thrusts and panting breaths went unnoticed through the grate.

“For all these sins and the sins of my past life, I am truly sorry,” Amelia said. And Lord, but it was Eggsy’s turn to speak.

“You’re a good child of God, and I am sure you understand that what you did was wrong,” he managed before he blew out a moan disguised in his breath. “For your penance, you may say three Hail Marys and one Lord’s Prayer. Go forth, my child.” It was quickly said, but the best Eggsy could manage considering he literally had his cock down Harry’s throat.

He expected her to leave soon after that, but she asked, confused, “Will you not say the absolution, Father?”

“Ah!” Eggsy exclaimed, mostly because Harry cupped his balls and fondled them. “Of course, of course. 

“ _God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of your son, you have reconciled the world to yourself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins. Through the ministry of the church, may God grant you pardon and peace. And I absolve you of your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen._ ”

“Amen. Thank you, Father,” Amelia said and shut the door behind her just as he came.

 

 

Eggsy woke, sticky and panting once more.

………..

Despite last night's dream, Harry didn't come the following day to ravage Eggsy in the confessional box. Eggsy was relieved for it, really, because he was still in the process of sorting out his thoughts, and a strong come on wouldn't be welcome at this point in time.

A smaller part of him, though--the part of him that he was currently trying not to automatically squash out in the face of Harry's revelation and subsequent lecture--was somehow disappointed.

He ignored that small part of him; he didn't quite yet have the willpower to entertain it. Instead, seated on a bench in the church's back garden, he was lost in the thoughts jumbling in the greater part of his mind, the thoughts of Harry, of his vocation, of his religion, and how his life had been tipped over its head.

It was then that the air in front of him suddenly shimmered and glowed incandescently bright. He slapped a hand over his eyes to shield them from the brilliance while still trying to peek through.

"Gary Unwin," an ethereal voice called out. "Child of God, soldier of the Lord's army, shepherd of His flock lend to me your ears and hear my words."

White feathers filtered into Eggsy's view, whirling around him with a gust of wind. Brightness forgotten in his astonishment, he dropped his hand to find an angel--a real life angel--hovering in front of him. She was bathed in a gold light and dressed in a flowing white robe. Her wings swept the air with an expected elegance and her hair swirled about her like molten gold. Her face, though. 

Her face, Eggsy knew.

"Roxy," he said flatly. She laughed a musical laugh of delight in response. 

He wasn't surprised, though. After being subjected to Harry’s revelation, he should probably be expecting random angels and devils to reveal themselves from all over the place. "Merlin?" he asked as she landed on the ground and sat down beside him. Her angelic robes and wings shimmered out of sight, leaving her in another sharp suit instead.

Roxy smiled. "He'll be along. I offered to go ahead." There was a beat of silence that Roxy seemed to think he would fill, so of course he didn't. "Sooo..." she said instead. She gave him a sideways glance. "I suppose you have a lot of questions."

"Oh ho!" Eggsy exclaimed with a short, humorless laugh. “'A lot' doesn't even _begin_ to cover it, believe me.” And to be truly honest about it, he didn't exactly know _where_ to begin to start finding the right actions to choose.

So he jumped right into the middle of it and asked her, "How can I trust him?"

Roxy blew out a heavy breath and took a long moment to think about it. She leaned back against the bench and pursed her lips. "Well, how do you learn to trust anyone?" she finally asked then shrugged. "No one trusts another at the start, do they? But you get to know them, and they start to prove themselves to you, and _then_ you start to trust them." She tilted her head. "What have you learned about Harry?"

Eggsy jumped to his feet and exploded, "I learned that he's the damned _devil_! That he is evil incarnate! The singular cause of all the horror and misery in this world! That he can manipulate me with his temptations and his powers! _That_!” He stabbed a finger in her direction. “That is what I know about him!"

Roxy, this time, looked a little more concerned as she eyed his finger distastefully. When Eggsy dropped his hand and slumped back down on the chair with a deep breath, she frowned at him and looked somewhat disappointed. “You have been severely misinformed,” she told him gravely. “But it’s not your fault, so I suppose we can only set you to rights.” She looked over the top of his head and said, “Hello, Merlin.” Eggsy turned to find the other man--no wings or halo in sight, but he didn’t doubt he was one of them.

“Hello, Eggsy,” the man greeted. He held all the aura of a teacher about him, from the way he dressed to the way he spoke. But his eyes Eggsy was certain was made from solid steel.

“No wings?” he asked with a jerk of his head.

Merlin flicked a look at Roxy. “Roxy took a little too much amusement in revealing herself to you. She’d been planning it for a while now,” he said, with a small quirk to his mouth. “Thought it would be funny to show herself as the stereotypical ‘messenger of God.’” He gave her a pointed look. “It really wasn’t.”

Roxy scrunched her nose at him and gave him a biting, “Well, you had to be there.” But Eggsy was only staring at her incredulously.

Considering that he was being _wooed_ by the _Prince of Hell_ , coming face to face with the angel who had delivered God’s word to the Virgin Mary shouldn’t have been a big deal, but Eggsy was suddenly what could only be described as starstruck.

He gaped for a long moment before finding the words to say, “What was she like?”

He didn’t have to elaborate, it seemed, because Roxy smiled gently. “She was as lovely as the stories all say.” Eggsy’s heart fluttered at that. He wondered if they could somehow let him meet her.

Or _God_ for that matter.

He turned to Merlin. “You’re Michael?” he asked.

Merlin shook his head. “Just because he and Gabriel here are two of the most famous angels, it doesn’t make them the only ones,” he answered with a roll of his eyes. “I am Metatron, the scribe of the Lord.”

“Oh...” Eggsy murmured, blinking at him. His name somehow triggered a delayed reaction of astonishment in Eggsy towards being suddenly inundated with the existence of _angels_. I mean, sure, he believed they existed, but seeing them, _meeting_ them was a whole different kettle of fish. 

A thought occurred to him. “Have you met the pope?”

Roxy barked a laugh. “What?” she asked between chuckles.

“I just--” Eggsy thought he sounded stupid, but persevered anyway. “I mean, is it just me or… or have the more important members of the church met you?”

“Oh, Eggsy,” Roxy answered, still giggling.

“Yes, the pope knows of our existence. We pay each new one a courtesy visit upon their selection,” Merlin explained.

“Ah,” Eggsy nodded. “I see. And… why me?”

Merlin slanted a look at him. “Don’t be daft. It’s _obviously_ because of Harry.” And yeah, Eggsy knew that, but maybe he just needed to hear Merlin say it.

“You going to tell me to keep a stiff upper lip? Tell me to resist his temptations?” he asked.

To that, Merlin frowned. “That’s for you to decide, really,” was his answer. “Roxy and I are here to help you understand Harry, but the decision of whether or not to believe us, to believe him is up to you.”

“And what information would that be?” Eggsy asked.

“You asked Roxy how you can trust Harry,” Merlin started. “I pose the same question: how can you trust what we have to say? How do you know that we truly are angels and not devils in disguise? If I ask God to speak to you, would you believe it was him or would you think I’m playing tricks on you?”

“I think if I spoke to God, he’d make sure to let me know it was really him, and not some demon’s tricks,” Eggsy answered wryly. “Wait--You could get _God_ to speak to me? Doesn’t he have to, like, do it through Roxy?”

Merlin let out a long-suffering sigh. “Considering he’s the cause of all this, then yes, I could _probably_ persuade him to speak with you. I’d rather not have to because it takes _such_ effort to do so. It’s so much easier for everyone in heaven for Roxy to pass messages between him and Earth.” Eggsy blinked at Merlin’s exasperation and decided not to push, lest he annoy the angel. “But going back to my question, how would you _really_ know?” Eggsy shrugged. “Then good, you understand that you can only trust _yourself_ to make the right choices based on the information you’ve been given.” Eggsy nodded, hesitantly albeit.

“The thing you need to understand about Harry is that he’s not as evil as your texts portray him to be,” Merlin started. “I’m not saying he’s a perfectly nice person, but that he has his reasons and his methods and, sometimes, he justifies himself with Machiavelli.

“But he wasn’t always bad, and he’s not as needlessly evil as you think he is,” the angel continued. “He was God’s favorite angel, created for the sole purpose of being magnificent. Beyond the seraphims and all the other hierarchies of angels, God loved him most, and so he was entrusted to take care of God’s greatest creation in his stead: the Earth.

“Harry took that task to heart. He minded the Earth for God and made it a beautiful place. He helped nurture every living thing from the first cell to the first walking land animal. All the angels enjoyed it and helped him by doing their part.” There, Merlin paused.

“And then God created evil and set it in the garden of Eden. He gave the first thinking man the free will to choose it or not and left him to decide on which. And man did.” He shrugged. “You know the story from there. 

“So you can imagine that Harry grew angry that his carefully nurtured world had turned into a hellhole. He became resentful of God for creating evil, and he wrongly placed the blame on man for choosing it. He incited God’s wrath and got himself punished for his insolence, and in response, he took that evil that man had chosen and nurtured it with the same care he gave the things he loved until it grew and it grew and it grew.”

“By why did God create evil in the first place?” Eggsy asked, shaken by that revelation.

Merlin sighed. “It’s very difficult to explain to a human,” he said. “There are intricacies that cannot be translated, and to be honest, no one can fully understand God’s thinking. But to explain it in very, very simple terms, imagine a world with no wars, no poverty, no crimes, no pain, no suffering. Everyone is happy, everyone is friends with each other, everyone helps each other.”

Eggsy frowned because that didn’t sound bad, actually. Merlin could see his expression and understand it for what it was. “It sounds perfect because that is what you strive for in an imperfect world. It is your goal, in life to reach that state of being. But if you have it, what then?

“Life loses purpose, loses meaning. You’ll live your life one day to the next without having anything to live for but simply to exist.” 

Then Merlin shook is head. “But that’s not what we’re not here for,” he said. “We want you to understand who Harry really is, not to uproot the foundations of your belief.”

“But why?” Eggsy asked again. For some reason, he only felt more confused. “He’s a fallen angel, punished by God. Why should I even consider entertaining him at all?”

“Because his anger had consumed him, and he’d lost the knowledge of how to love,” Merlin said. “And after what he did in second world war, he needed to be taught how to love again. God sent him Father Froggatt to do so, and while the good father made significant strides with Harry, it wasn’t enough. 

“You, Gary Unwin, were created _for_ him.”

The revelation of that, of his purpose for being, shot through Eggsy like a lance through the heart. He gaped at Merlin before slowly turning to Roxy for confirmation and some semblance of support. She went over and above that by drawing him into her arms and humming soft reassurances at him.

“Does Harry know?” Eggsy eventually asked when the shock had worn off, and he could speak again.

“Certainly not,” Merlin answered. “No one but God and chance had a hand in your relationship with him.”

“I see.”

Roxy turned his face up to her and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You need to think about this, we know. Take all the time you need,” she said. Then with a gentle smile, continued, “He’ll wait for you, and if you need us, just call out our names and we’ll be here.”

………...

He still hadn’t called Harry three weeks later.

To be fair, there had been a _lot_ more sorting to do after Merlin’s little speech. Eggsy had spent hours of his free time poring over his theology books, picking out verses and statements that would reflect what Merlin had said and wondering how true the rest of it was. The rest of the time he spent in more prayer, wondering if God was listening and what he would say.

He’d called on Roxy a few more times since then, confiding in her in a way he couldn’t do with anyone else. She listened patiently, answered when she could, and helped him sort out his thoughts. In the end, though, true enough to Merlin’s words, it was Eggsy who had to decide what he wanted to do.

And what he wanted--or what he thought would be was the best course of action, to be more accurate--was to get to know Harry more. 

Roxy was right. Unless he spent more time getting to know Harry, how was he going to be able to properly judge whether or not to trust the man? Or demon, as it were. 

Fallen angel. 

Whatever.

He resolved to ask Harry to lunch the next day.

That was until he received a call of his own.

"Eggsy," came Julia's worried voice over the phone. A child was screaming in the background. 

Julia was his mum's best friend who lived three doors down from their flat, and the child, Eggsy didn't doubt, was Daisy. 

He could put two and two together.

"What happened?" he asked, already heading to his room to stuff clothes haphazardly into his bag. The claws of panic were starting to grip at his heart even as he mentally calculated the time he’d need to get to London from here.

“Yer mum, Eggsy,” Julia answered. “They took ‘er to the A&E jus’ a few minutes ago. Dean was… ‘e was drunk and angry. I think ‘e lost quite a bi’ of money.”

“Where’d they take ‘er? Where’s Dean? Is Daisy all right?” He couldn’t seem to keep the fear and venom out of his voice. 

He’d learned to transform his anger into positive energy when he was at the seminary. He didn’t curse, didn’t scream, no longer found drinking and other vices to be an appealing method to deal with anger and fear.

But when it came to Dean, he felt all of his training fall away.

“Daisy’s fine. I’ll keep ‘er ‘ere. You go see yer mum; she’s at St. John’s. Dean--they’d taken ‘im down ter the station. Keepin’ ‘im there for the night while they decide wot ter do wi’ ‘im,” Julia said.

“Okay, Julia. I’m on me way,” he said and hung up.

It took him an hour and a half to get to the hospital, public transport being whittled down in the evening as it were. An hour and a half worrying for his mum and stewing in his anger at Dean.

He should have never left. He should have taken them with him. 

He’d thought Dean would have lain low now that his stepson was a priest, but apparently, Eggsy had been mistaken, and his mum had paid the price for it.

He demanded for her room number at the front desk. They took one look at his collar and led him there. The attending physician gave him a run down of her injuries and their recommendations to help her recuperate--psychologically and legally as well as physically--and when he had finished and Eggsy collapsed at her bedside, the doctor had God’s good grace to leave him to his privacy.

“Mum,” he sobbed, pressing his forehead to the uninjured hand he held. They’d already cleaned and patched her up, but bruises had already started forming. Blood leaked through the gauze where her lacerations were, and her eye was already starting to swell. It was the worst condition he had seen her in, and it never should have happened in the first place.

He stood abruptly and wiped his tears on the sleeves of his shirt. He had a man to face, and it wouldn’t do him favors to be seen as weak for it. 

He whirled around to stalk to the door and onward to the station, but hands suddenly caught his shoulders and pulled him into a broad chest.

“Shhh,” Harry murmured, holding him firmly when he struggled against him.

“Let go, Harry!” Eggsy demanded, slamming his fists against Harry’s chest when he refused to release Eggsy. Venom and intent dripped from the priest’s voice, directed at one man, and one man only. “Let go! I’ve a man to see.”

“I know, Eggsy. I know,” Harry answered lightly, still holding tight and calmly rubbing circles into Eggsy’s back. “I know you do, darling, I know what you want to do.” To that, Eggsy stilled, so Harry chanced his release and cupped his jaw to tilt his face up. “But you’d never forgive yourself for having done it, my love, so I won’t let you. I won’t.”

“Was it you?” Eggsy demanded, his fists clenching.

A flash of hurt passed Harry’s eyes, but he only shook his head and answered in a gravely sincere voice, “I would never do that to you, Eggsy. Never. Not even if it were the only way for you to love me back.” He leaned closer, pressing their foreheads together, their breaths mixing with Eggsy’s still heaving from anger. His next whispered words took all the fight out of the priest. “Please believe me.”

A choked sob escaped Eggsy’s mouth. “I’m sorry,” he whispered immediately, shutting his eyes in shame. Didn’t he preach kindness to neighbors? Didn’t he preach forgiveness? Harry had done nothing to him to merit Eggsy’s accusation.

“It’s okay,” Harry whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Shh. It’s okay, Eggsy.” He held Eggsy tight about the shoulders as he sobbed his anger into Harry’s shirt, whispering reassurances and murmurs of comfort that Eggsy suddenly felt so very thankful for. He had been alone in his anger and despair, but now, he had someone to lean against. “I’ll take care of you, Eggsy. I swear,” Harry promised.

They eventually settled into the visitor’s chairs by the bed where Eggsy leaned over to grasp at his mum’s hand and press his forehead once more against it. This was the position he found himself in when he woke up the following morning, but the comforting weight of Harry’s hand on his back was gone.

He sat up, blinking blearily around the morning-brightened room. “Harry?” he tried, thinking the devil would be able to hear him regardless of his lack of presence. Getting no response, he looked once more at his mum, reevaluating her visible injuries in the morning light. He smoothed her hair back from her forehead and leaned over to press a kiss there. That was when the door opened, and Harry came in carrying something.

And some _one_.

“Daisy!” Eggsy exclaimed in surprise, automatically reaching for her. 

She squealed loudly at the sight of him, wriggling in Harry’s arms that he had to juggle her with the coffee he bore and making him nearly spill it in the process. Eggsy scooped her at the last second so that Harry could catch the second cup as it fell. “Oh dear. Are you all right?” Eggsy asked with a wince when rivulets of piping hot coffee ran down Harry’s hand. The devil only set the coffee cups down to pull out his handkerchief and wipe off his hand.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” he answered, then gave Daisy a bright smile and tapped her nose. “Lively little bunny, aren’t you?” he teased.

“Bunny! Bunny!” Daisy cheered before smacking both of Eggsy’s cheeks. “Eggy!” Eggsy laughed in sheer happiness for having her in his arms again. 

“‘Ello, flower. Give big bruv a kiss, yeah?” he said before pressing dozens of kisses to her face, making her giggle in delight. When she pushed him back from any more, he turned a bright grin to Harry. “Where’d you get her?”

Harry suddenly seemed hesitant. “I, uhh, knew you’d be worried about her, so I went to pick her up from Julia’s house.” Eggsy’s eyes narrowed at him. Harry didn’t know Julia _or_ her house, and Julia didn’t know him, and Eggsy calmly pointed that out. Harry answered guiltily, “I may have… convinced her to let me take Daisy to you.” Eggsy glared at him, so he quickly added, “I promise I didn’t hurt her or Daisy!” 

To that, Eggsy’s eyes widened.

“I know you didn’t,” he said immediately to reassure Harry. “I know.” On impulse, he pushed up to his tiptoes and kissed Harry on the cheek, and when he pulled away, he murmured, “Thank you, Harry.”

The blush on Harry’s face was frankly adorable.

“Eggy!” Daisy said once more, slapping his cheek. So he gave her a wide grin and blew a raspberry on her cheek. Her shriek was loud enough that Eggsy snapped a glance to the door to see if they’d be reprimanded.

“Shush,” he told her anyway. “Mum’s sleeping.” Daisy glanced over at their mum.

“Mum, owie?” she asked. Eggsy bit his lip.

“Yes, so you have to be careful, okay? And very, very quiet like a mouse.” He sat back down on the visitor’s chair with Daisy in his lap, watching her touch Michelle’s hand and look at the wires and tubes, but keep her from touching more. A coffee appeared in his line of vision, and Harry gave him a reassuring smile as he handed it over. “Thanks,” Eggsy told him and took a sip.

For a long while, they watched Michelle breathe and listened to the beep of the monitor. They played with Daisy when she got fussy and put her down for a nap when she grew tired of waiting about.

With the room quiet once more, Eggsy took in a deep breath and turned to Harry. “I spoke with Merlin an’ Roxy. Several times with Roxy, actually.”

“Oh?” Harry asked, feigning disinterest while he fiddled with his cup, but Eggsy knew better.

“Yeah. Told me some stuff, not everythin’ I understood, mind, but enough.” He took another deep breath. “They seemed ter think I should give you a chance,” he continued.

“And…” Harry turned to look at him. “And will you?” 

His legitimately anxious expression made Eggsy’s heart melt, and Eggsy couldn’t stop a genuine smile spreading over his face as he said, “Well, I dunno. ‘ow can I decide when you ‘aven’t even kissed me yet?” Harry’s face immediately lit up with an incandescent smile, and the devil wasted no time in cupping his jaw with both hands and sliding their mouths together.

Eggsy’s heart fluttered in his chest like a bird caught in a cage and, more embarrassingly, felt himself harden in his pants. 

He hadn’t been a virgin when he’d joined the seminary; he’d had his fair share of teenage romances and so was quite familiar with the joys of kissing and touching despite his chosen vocation, but the way Harry kissed--deep and wet and hot--was the stuff of his dreams. Quite literally, really.

Eggsy curled one hand into Harry’s jacket and shifted closer, encouraging the kiss deeper, so Harry obliged and explored the willing cavern of Eggsy’s mouth with his tongue, tasting and memorizing the insides of it, the young man’s tongue a mere bystander in his exploration. Eggsy wanted to slide into Harry’s lap and give in to the vicious feelings of lust he’d been holding back for a while now, and he almost did so right there in his mother’s hospital room.

Except that there was a soft, “Is this your way of tellin’ me yer leaving the church?”

“Mum!” Eggsy exclaimed jerking backwards that he nearly toppled over, embarrassed at his breathlessness, and then he remembered why she was there and his tears sprung back into his eyes. “Mum,” he said more gently, pressing his face to her shoulder.

Michelle shushed him and stroked his hair while he cried ‘sorry’ over and over and over again. “It’s no’ yer fault, baby. I’m sorry. Stop cryin’, please, Eggsy,” she murmured back, kissing his hair every so often.

“I shouldn’a left. I should’ve taken you with me,” he said through a sob.

“Stop sayin’ tha’, Eggsy,” she scolded lightly. “It wasn’ yer fault. It _wasn’t_. You understand?”

“Come with me, mum,” Eggsy said. “Come with me ter Deepcut. You can stay with me at the church, I have enough room there fer you and Daisy. Please, mum.” But Michelle slowly turned a look to Harry.

“But you won’ be stayin’ there long, would you?” she said, staring at him. Eggsy followed her gaze.

“I…” he started to say, but she was right. He couldn’t, in good conscience, continue on as a priest now that he’d chosen to be with Harry. Flawed may his doctrine be, it would still be unethical to do so and unacceptable to hide his relationship with Harry at that. If he chose Harry, he would stand by that decision completely and openly.

“You can stay with me,” Harry offered to her gently. “All of you. And if you’d prefer to stay here in London, I have a house here, too.” Eggsy could have kissed him.

“Uh, mum, this is Harry. Harry Hart. ‘e’s the, uh, the tailor down in Deepcut,” he said, gesturing awkwardly between them. “Harry, my mum.”

“Please ta meet you, Mr. ‘Art,” Michelle said with a nod of her head as her hand was still resting in Eggsy’s hair. “Now could you kindly tell me wot yer intentions are seducin’ my son away from the Lord?”

“Mum!” Eggsy hissed.

“Don’t you _shush_ me, Gary Lee Unwin,” Michelle snapped. “‘Ere I’ve been thinkin’ my son’s finally turned over a new leaf, an’ I find you shackin’ up with some old geezer down in Surrey! What’s the Lord to think? What’s the _neighbors_ to think?” She was pissed at him, very pissed at him while being bound up in yards of bandages on a hospital bed, but Eggsy suddenly found himself laughing--small little hiccups at first that before long turned into loud guffaws. “Eggsy!” Michelle snapped again.

“Oh, I think the Lord ain’t goin’ ter mind, mum, believe you me,” he said, still laughing. Harry and Michelle turned confused looks to him, but he didn’t explain. “As fer the neighbors, well, they should mind their own business, now shouldn’ they?” 

His laughs eventually died out, taking his levity with it, and a serious mien stole over him. He glanced once at Harry, more for reassurance than anything, then back down at Michelle. “You caught us far earlier than I was hopin’ you would,” he said. “Tha’ was kind of our first kiss, and I still have some thinkin’ ter do ‘bout ‘im and I. So don’t go off yer rocker jus’ yet, please, mum? Le’ me jus’... Le’ us jus’ deal wiv it fer ourselves firs’, please?”

Michelle’s stare was hard and evaluating. She didn’t look too happy, but Eggsy didn’t expect her to. It was quite a shock and all. But she did say, “All right. But once you sort this out in yer ‘head, I want you ter come straight ter me an’ explain wot exactly it is yer thinkin’, you hear?”

“Yes, mum,” Eggsy answered obediently, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

Later, when they’d done with lunch and Michelle was again fast asleep, Eggsy asked Harry very softly, “What do you think we should do ‘bout Dean?” Daisy was also once again fast asleep after she’d spent the entirety of lunch flinging it away from her mouth and racing around the room thereafter. Eggsy absently played with her curls where she slept in his arms.

Harry was silent, so Eggsy looked up to try to encourage or gauge a response. Instead, he found Harry’s eyes to be dark and deadly, the brown in them glimmering with red, much like burning coal. 

Eggsy thought that he should feel afraid at the sight of the devil in him dancing in his eyes. He thought that he should condemn Harry for what that dark look implied. Instead, when Harry answered in a voice filled with the same darkness as his eyes, “You won’t have to worry about Dean Baker anymore,” Eggsy only felt safe.

He smiled and looked back down at Daisy.

………...

“I’m going to miss this place,” Eggsy said with a heavy sigh. In the dead of the night, his wistful declaration echoed in the emptiness of the church. He ran his hands along the tops of the pews as he made his way down the aisle and to the right to pay respects to the portrait of St. Barbara that hung by the church’s entrance. Her severe stare had always been a source of strength for Eggsy during his sermons, a strong figure watching over him from across the room for the last three months. 

“So will I,” Harry confessed, though his tone was less solemn that Eggsy’s. Lofty even, with no firm weight holding it back down to the soil of Deepcut. ‘As long as I am with you, I do not care where I find myself,’ Harry had told him when Eggsy mentioned his plan to move back to London. The memory brought Eggsy a soft smile. He pressed a kiss to his fingertips and pressed them to the base of St. Barbara’s painting, thanking her for watching over him. 

Then he turned to walk back to the front of the church where Harry waited for him while sat somewhat irreverently--given his true nature--in the priest’s chair. His legs were crossed one over the over, his chin in his fist, and his eyes hooded and lazy. He projected insouciance from every angle, and Eggsy rather thought he looked like a young king on his throne, utterly bored with his court.

Eggsy had since learned that Harry had, in the past, courteously attended daily mass in a show of respect and fondness to Father Froggatt and, later on, to him. But given the choice, he’d rather spend the better part of Eggsy’s day lazily curled up around him after several debilitating rounds of sex, pointing out and ridiculing the inaccuracies in the Bible and the rest of the Catholic doctrine. It was amusing, to be perfectly honest, and not the least bit insulting especially when, later on, Roxy or Merlin would only confirm to him the accuracy of what Harry said.

Eggsy had accepted Harry’s somewhat darker nature and his lack of reverence for the church as an integral part of him--a part Eggsy hoped to minimize if he could, but a part he accepted nonetheless. So when Harry drawled, “Stop there,” Eggsy did. A suppressed bark of laughter tugged his lips up into a smile. 

Harry held a hand out in front of him and slowly dragged it to the side. The altar in between them followed the motion until it reached the leftmost side of the church and stopped. Then nothing hindered their full view of each other. 

Projecting interest now, even when his position didn’t move an inch, Harry murmured, “Come to me, my love.”

“We’re in _church_ , Harry,” Eggsy pointed out with a roll of his eyes.

“So?” Harry dared. “It’s only a building. You, of all humans, know the Lord doesn’t live here.” His tone was mildly sarcastic towards the end. Eggsy gave him a _look_ for it.

“You can’t blame humans fer not knowing tha’, and you can’t blame them fer wantin’ ter believe it. Even if we know better, we should still respect their beliefs.” Harry only sighed greatly, affecting such a _put upon_ air that Eggsy wanted to laugh. But suddenly the air around them swirled burning hot, and Eggsy felt like he couldn’t breathe.

It cleared up again almost instantly, enough for him to exclaim, “Would it kill ya ter warn me when you do tha’!”

Harry only laughed, the bastard. “Well, I thought this might be a more acceptable venue for you. A compromise, if you will.” Only then did Eggsy look around to find them in the same spot at each end of the aisle but in a different church--one that was far, far bigger than the tiny Garrison Church of St. Barbara and one that was crumbling from years of disuse.

Eggsy pursed his lips. “Really? You want ter have sex in a dirty, decrepit old church?”

“Yes,” Harry answered, laughter still in his voice, but it was mostly covered up with seduction. He waved his hand and the detritus covering the aisle flew out of the way. “Come now, darling,” he purred, sounding as if he was standing right behind Eggsy, not twenty feet away.

“I think I liked you better when you was tha’ shy but charmin’ old tailor instead o’ the evil incarnate tha’ you are now,” Eggsy grumbled, but it was mostly for show because he was already taking a step forward.

“Oh, but I still am the shy, charming tailor now as much as I was evil incarnate then. I’m just a lot more agreeable to openly revealing my true nature to you now,” Harry answered. That he lounged gracefully on the stone chair with nary a look of discomfort made Eggsy wonder if he’d charmed some padding onto it. “But I was never _old_ , Eggsy.”

“Yer billions o’ years old! By my standards, yer _ancient_.” An invisible force suddenly pulled him to his knees. “Oi!” he complained with a laugh. 

“Insolent brat,” Harry said haughtily and then demanded, "Come here." 

"Yeah?" Eggsy asked. "And how 'm I supposed to if you ain't lettin' me up?" He rolled his eyes for effect, but Harry's mouth only widened into a grin, and then Eggsy _got it_. He groaned, half out of exasperation, half out of arousal. "You and yer power kink," he mock whinged. "You ain't turnin' me into your slave, you hear? I'll sick Rox on you if you do; she likes me better now. An' I don't appreciate you manhandlin' me."

"Of course not, darling. If I had wanted a slave, I could have made one so much more easily than wooing you. And I very much beg to differ," Harry grinned. "I do think you... _appreciate_ my manhandling." Another invisible force dragged him down onto his hands.

"Yer depraved," Eggsy said, teasing. He held Harry's very appreciative gaze as he crawled forward, holding his cassock skirt away from his knees to keep from tripping over it.

"I'm the devil, love," Harry thought to remind him. There was a moan in his voice that ran over Eggsy like rivulets of water, caressing him gently and teasing him.

"Show me, then," the now ex-priest demanded. Harry tilted his head and considered that for a brief moment before he rolled his shoulders and neck. 

His wings, black as the night outside, unfurled slowly from his back, extending upwards toward their fullest extent and nearly filling the alcove in which he sat. His horns curled up out of his head with sparks of flame licking at their edges until they were solid and imposing and perfectly beautiful.

Eggsy no longer found any fear in him from them. Instead, he embraced the wicked curl of desire they invoked. If his pace sped up, neither of them commented on it.

He stopped at Harry's feet, sitting on his heels patiently while Harry's possessive gaze raked over him. He caught Eggsy's chin between his thumb and forefinger and dragged him upwards onto his knees. "Such a lovely creature," he murmured against Eggsy's mouth. Eggsy was close enough now to see the coal burning in his eyes and feel the heat of his breath. He moaned. "It gives me such great pleasure putting you to ruin, my pretty priest," he continued as though Eggsy wasn't swaying into him, begging to be kissed. "The Lord's soldier _aching_ for the devil's touch." 

His words were a subtle manifestation of his resentment towards the Lord, but Eggsy allowed him that. It would be a while before Harry truly turned back to God and asked for forgiveness, so for now, he allowed Harry to express it. Encouraged it even because if it helped Harry get it out of his system, he was all for it. 

He knew better, after all. He knew that the Lord loved Harry enough to create Eggsy for him to teach him again to love and to return him to God’s side. God’s soldier Eggsy may be, or may have been, but he was _Harry’s_ \--Harry’s guide, Harry’s teacher, Harry’s beacon of light.

Harry’s love.

“Yeah,” he agreed, leaning further into Harry’s touch. “Please,” he begged, breathy and wanton. Delight lit up Harry’s eyes as he pulled Eggsy a scant inch closer and sealed their mouths together.

Heat filled Eggsy’s senses and melted his insides. He almost couldn’t help the way his mouth opened for Harry immediately on contact, moaning when Harry’s tongue licked its way inside and traced at the ridges of his teeth, stroked at his tongue, caressed the insides of his cheeks like he had forgotten what Eggsy’s mouth felt like and was trying to remember it again. 

The fingers on his chin spread out to wrap around the back of his neck, and the devil’s other hand found his hip. With both, he dragged Eggsy off of the floor and onto his lap, settling him unabashedly on his crotch. 

Eggsy pressed both hands to Harry’s shoulders to use it as leverage to grind against him. Only a few weeks ago, he’d have fallen to his knees to beg God for forgiveness at merely having _thought_ it; now, though, with the knowledge that sex and homosexuality weren’t as big a deal as humans made them out to be, he was just as shameless as his devil. 

His moans echoed loudly in the silence of the cavernous church when Harry tipped his head back and nipped at the skin of his neck while his hand wrapped around the meat of his arse and _squeezed_.

“ _Harry_ ,” Eggsy whined. He pushed back against said hand, begging Harry with his body.

“Mmm,” was Harry’s only response, but Eggsy’s legs grew hot for a brief moment before the chill that replaced it informed him that he was now depantsed beneath his cassock.

“Jus’ like this then?” Eggsy asked, still rocking against Harry’s beautifully endowed, but unfortunately clothed cock. His voice was admirably level considering Harry’s fingers were teasing at his hole. “Yer not usually one fer modesty.”

“I like the visual,” Harry told him. And yeah, when he put it like that, Eggsy still in his clerical attire riding the devil’s lap like a proper whore… Harry grinned and pushed one long finger in dry.

“Ohhh,” Eggsy whined, arching his back. It stretched and burned, neither sensation enough to put him off, but just enough for him to _feel_ it. “I--I ‘ope you brought the lube wiv you,” he stuttered. “You ain’t gettin’ any more in than tha’ wivou’ it.”

“I’m sure I could,” Harry murmured darkly. Eggsy blinked at him, but Harry’s smile turned soft. “But I won’t,” he assured him with a kiss and then pushed Eggsy off his lap. “Bend over,” he instructed, tilting his head to indicate for Eggsy to turn. The former priest did to find a massive marble altar behind him where there hadn’t been one before.

“Lots of symbolism happenin’ here,” he said as Harry pressed a hand between his shoulder blades and pushed him down over the edge of the table. “And massive amounts of sacrilege.” Harry chuckled.

“That’s somewhat the point of it, darling,” he answered. “Stretch your arms out, grasp the other edge.” Eggsy did so without second thought.

“You makin’ a point to Him then? Din’t you say the Lord ain’t watchin’ anyway?”

“An audience was not what I had in mind for this, sweetling. But now that you mention it...” Harry trailed off, so Eggsy lifted his head to see what he was on about, only to find the church suddenly bright and beautiful. Grand as it would have been in its heyday.

And filled to the brim with people.

“ _Harry_ ,” Eggsy groaned, burying his face in his arms. His burning blush could have rivaled the fiery brimstone of Hell. Harry only laughed.

“None of it’s real, Eggsy,” he assured him, as if that was the crux of the matter. 

No, the crux of it was that every eye was turned to them and, in eerie silence, watched them as they approached the cusp of sex. 

And that Eggsy was so completely, utterly hard anyway. 

Harry pressed a quick kiss to the back of his neck then flipped the skirt over his back, baring his arse to the devil’s hungry gaze. He felt Harry kneel behind him and spread his cheeks wide. He knew what was coming, then--their lack of lube assured it--but when Harry’s mouth pressed against his hole, he still jerked up and howled.

The grip on his cheeks grew punishing to hold him still as Harry licked at the ring of his hole and Eggsy pushed back into it. Harry sealed his mouth over the rosette and _sucked_ quite viciously, making Eggsy sob into his arms. His tongue returned once more to flick tiny kitten licks over it and then push into the tightness.

Eggsy was sure Harry had magicked away the bones in his legs because they suddenly felt jelly-like. He cried out his whimpers into his arms as Harry fucked him with his tongue, shamelessly and filthily. Teeth scraped over the outside at the same time, and Eggsy _wailed_ , “Harry. HarryHarryHarry, please. _Please_.” A finger joined the tongue in him, stretching him and tugging at the ring to loosen it up enough for a finger from Harry’s other hand to join it. Together, they pried Eggsy open for more. 

“Harry,” he sobbed when a third finger joined the two and tongue. The obscene, slick sounds Harry made against his hole permeated the air, and Eggsy felt like the phantom figures were judging them for it. “Please, Harry, I want you. I want your cock in me. _Please_ , Harry. Now, please,” he begged. And finally, _finally_ , Harry got to his feet. 

He leaned over Eggsy and pressed the hot length of his now bare cock into the crack of his arse so that he could kiss Eggsy’s neck and whisper at him, “Do you, sweet thing?” Eggsy nodded even when his face was still buried in his arms. “Show me, then,” Harry said and pulled Eggsy around the other side of the table, closer to their ‘audience’. 

He turned Eggsy to face them before slowly unwrapping him from his clothes. The black cincture went first, settled on the altar beside Harry. The Roman collar was next so that Harry could begin flicking the buttons of his cassock out of their holes, baring him inch by inch to the hollow eyes before them.

“How much would you do for me, I wonder,” Harry purred in his ear, holding his arms at his sides while the breeze of the night washed over him. “How much would you let me get away with?”

Eggsy pressed his face into Harry’s neck to hide his blush from the shadows. “As long as we aren’t hurtin’ no one in any way,” he answered, voice muffled in hot skin. Harry turned him around to press a kiss to his temple and give him a wicked smile.

“That doesn’t close off many doors,” he said. Eggsy grinned back and leaned up to kiss him.

“Well, there ain’t many things I wouldn’t do fer you, my love,” he said only to receive a savage kiss in return. 

Harry held him close, Eggsy’s bare body pressed up against his love’s suit, their cocks sliding against each other’s, while Harry plundered the willing mouth of the young man, desperate almost in his need to communicate his appreciation and his love, but Eggsy heard it loud and clear. 

“I love ya, too, Harry,” he said when they parted. Harry only hummed and drew his arms back behind him, crossing them at the wrist. Eggsy’s eyebrows drew together. “Wha--” he started to say, but then felt the cloth of his cincture wrap around his wrists. He groaned and dropped his face onto Harry’s shoulder. “What was it I said ‘bout you bein’ a deviant? Yer killin’ me, Harry.”

“I promise you’ll survive,” Harry said and hauled himself gracefully up on the altar, spread his legs wide. Eggsy tugged against his bindings and gave it a quick glance, but when he found no give in it, he shrugged and drew forward.

“You gunna tell me wot you want or are you gunna make me guess?”

Harry drew him closer by his chin. “I want you to get my cock nice and wet with your mouth first, and then you’re going to ride it until you’re screaming my name,” he said sweetly, like the words coming out of his mouth weren’t pure filth.

“Deviant,” Eggsy shot back fondly then bent to take Harry’s hot length in his mouth. The devil groaned and thrust his hand into Eggsy’s hair, guiding him as he took the length down nearly into his throat.

“Oh yes,” he moaned, tracing Eggsy’s stretched lips with his other hand. “Such a lovely mouth, my sweet one. Makes you wonder if father intentionally made it for this purpose alone.” Eggsy was pretty confident God had bigger plans for his mouth than sucking Harry off, but the words flowed over him like molten lava anyway. 

He pressed forward until the head was just about touching the back of his throat and sucked at the length he’d managed to fit inside. The rest of it, he was unable to take in, but the thought of the entire thing inside of him made him shiver all over. 

“Nice and wet, my love,” Harry reminded gently. His hands carded through Eggsy’s hair, gently pushing and pulling him over his cock. “Perfect.”

Eggsy’s jaw ached because Harry certainly wasn’t small, but he felt lost in his desire, like he could spend all day on his knees with Harry’s cock in his mouth, just being. He hummed around the length and shut his hazy eyes. His tongue worked sluggishly in his mouth, savoring the heat and taste of it. Gently, Harry pulled him off and drew him onto his lap. 

His head wanted to fall forward onto Harry’s shoulder and it almost did, heavy as it were, but the devil tipped his chin up to the sky. “Like this, darling,” he commanded gently. “I want you to show the stars how you pleasure yourself on my cock.”

Eggsy’s moan was slow and drunk while he lifted himself up so that Harry could position himself beneath him. And then he sunk down on the throbbing, burning length.

“Ohhh,” he moaned when he stretched to accommodate Harry. Like each time before, Harry’s girth made him feel like a virgin all over again, and his intrinsic heat scorched Eggsy’s insides. He wondered if he’d ever feel loose around it.

“You will,” Harry promised darkly, licking and biting at his bared nipples. Eggsy’s body jerked forwards into his mouth. “Your body will learn to welcome me at a single touch, will be as loose as I want you to be for me. I’d be able to fuck you with only the barest of preparation, and you’ll love it, won’t you, sweetling?”

“ _Yes, Harry_ ,” Eggsy moaned. He sunk further and further down and wondered how much more had Harry to give until he finally found himself sat on Harry’s lap, so, so _full_ with him inside. He ached to wrap his arms around Harry’s neck and kiss his mouth, but Harry wanted him like this, so he stayed.

“Go on, darling,” Harry commanded, pulling his mouth back from Eggsy’s chest. “Fuck yourself on me. I want to see you come from just my cock.” Eggsy moaned once more, straining the muscles of his thighs to lift himself up. Dropping back down was a relief from it, and Eggsy found himself doing so with lesser and lesser grace.

Each drop onto Harry’s lap sent shockwaves of pleasure through him. With each one, he felt his orgasm nearing. Each bounce up and down Harry’s length promised the pleasure and relief Eggsy was getting intensely desperate for, and so he rode his devil’s cock with careless abandon and zero grace, only wild frenzy.

The tease of pleasure pulled moans and whines and sobs from his mouth and brought tears to his eyes, fueling his need for more, for harder, for faster.

“So stunning,” Harry purred in the face of his inelegance. His hands gripped Eggsy’s hips punishingly. “Like that, my sweet boy, yes.” His voice was molten steel in Eggsy’s ears, burning oil for his passion. Harry could probably make him come from his words alone. “That’s it, Eggsy. I want you to come. I want to feel you tight around me, my darling,” he drawled, and then his fingers pressed bruises into Eggsy’s hips and he _thrust_ just as Eggsy dropped back down onto him.

Eggsy’s scream reverberated in the church. His back arched as he came violently over Harry’s suit and his chest. But the devil wasn’t satisfied with just watching. He slammed Eggsy down on the altar and pushed his knees to his chest, fucking forcefully into him even as Eggsy’s cock still spurted come. 

Eggsy cried at the sensations, the thrusts complementing his orgasm and, later, the pounding at his over sensitivity. His bound hands ached beneath his weight, but Eggsy barely felt it over the frenzy of Harry’s thrusts. He only sobbed into the air when Harry buried his face in his neck and wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist when the devil grunted out his orgasm.

And then there was silence. The charade of their audience disappeared in the blink of an eye, as did Eggsy’s bindings, and Eggsy and Harry found themselves breathing heavily into each other’s mouths as they kissed.

Harry drew back and traced Eggsy’s face. 

“You terrify me,” he confessed softly after a beat.

“How so?” Eggsy asked, kissing the fingers that traced his lips.

“Because I’m an evil being, Eggsy,” was the devil’s sad answer. “I’ve done very, very bad things to this world, unforgivable things, and I’m afraid that… I’m afraid father will take you away to punish me. Maybe that’s what this is, why I’ve fallen in love with you: so that it hurts even more when I lose you.”

Eggsy cupped his cheeks and drew him down for a gentle kiss. “I won’t ever leave you, my love. No one can make me.” Another kiss and then a small smile. “And I have it on good authority that neither does the Lord.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Whose authority?” he asked.

Eggsy’s grin broadened. “Merlin’s.”

“Ah,” Harry said, then shrugged. “Well, if there’s one person who know what father’s thinking, that would be Merlin.”

Eggsy chuckled and pulled him back in for a kiss, deeper this time. 

It was a whirlwind romance, that much Eggsy knew, and there were so many things that needed to be sorted out between them, things Eggsy needed to be caught up on, boundaries that needed to be set, anger and fear that needed to be tamed, forgiveness to be found.

But all that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Only two things were for sure: that Eggsy loved Harry and that he was in this for the long haul.

**Author's Note:**

> [Mitslits](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/pseuds/mitslits) made [this very lovely thing](http://hartwinorlose.tumblr.com/post/130728286865/devilharry-did-god-ever-cry-over-his-lost) inspired by the fic! :D

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Offering](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4921210) by [meetingyourmaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meetingyourmaker/pseuds/meetingyourmaker)




End file.
